


It's Our Turn Now

by Zope



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Deacon's sunglasses, Developing Friendships, F/M, Mac's hat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Sarcasm, Survivor Power Couple, Swearing, Unrequited Crush, spouse survives, wee bit of hero worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zope/pseuds/Zope
Summary: The pulse grenade had managed to do the job, taking out both of the synths in the room- for now. "That's it? That's your move?" Kellog groaned incredulously from the shadows. "A cheap trick and a shitty one-liner?"Ava grinned, backing towards the door and cocking her rifle as Iann slipped past her, cloaked in his own stealth-boy. "Asshole, that could be the name of my autobiography. Now why don't you sit still so my husband can show what he's got planned for you?"A retelling of Fallout 4 in which both spouses survive and transverse the Commonwealth on a warpath as an ex-military power couple with some seriously unflattering opinions about this whole 'wasteland' situation.





	1. Respect the Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This fic is largely inspired by my most recent play through, which is a result of Kesabelus' amazing mod Dual Survivors on the Nexus. Seriously, if you've ever wanted Nate to be a fully functioning companion, check out this mod. It's fantastically well done.
> 
> That said, this is my first time writing a fic for Fallout, and my first time writing a fic in a looong time. Both the Female and Male Survivors are based off of OCs- those being mine and my fiance's. The first three chapters are a little rough, since they're setting the scenes. Bear with me! I'm planning for this fic to cover the whole story with a few canon deviations. Eventually it will earn it's M rating. All companions will make an appearance as I adore them all, but get ready for lots of Deacon and Mac during our dual survivor's journey. And Dogmeat, obviously!
> 
> Comments are welcome and encouraged! I'd love to hear what you think.

 

_Chinese forces may have finally been driven from Anchorage, but the conflict has transitioned into a frighteningly tense stalemate. With diplomacy all but suspended, and conventional warfare taking a historic toll on both sides, many have wondered if the good old U-S-of-A hasn't finally entered into a fight it just-._

 The newscaster was muted by fizzling static as the television was shut off. Ava slouched back into the couch with a disgruntled huff; half staring, half glaring at the now turned off T.V set. The news station had done this broadcast at least four times this week, and she was getting really, _really_ sick of hearing the same defeatist lines over and over again. With a groan she let her head fall back against the couch, wondering why she agreed to stand on a stage in front of a bunch of people who wanted to use her and her husband as some sort of symbol of American pride.

The house smelled like fresh bread and coffee, the sun was shining through that clear blue sky, filling the living room and kitchen with a soft, warm glow compared to the usually chilly October. Codsworth busied himself behind her, the quiet vrooms and muted whirs of his propulsion jets were the loudest sounds in the room right now, aside from the tings and clangs of his metal hands grabbing and putting away the dishes from breakfast.

"Hey, hun? I could use your help in here."

Ava closed her eyes, trying to guess what her husband could possibly need from her in their bathroom. Slowly she leaned forward, grasping the couch arm's for support and hefted herself up.

"Ah- mum! Do you need assistance? I'd offer you a hand, but it's a leg you'd need!" Codsworth laughed in his slightly robotic yet entirely too British voice. Ava found herself chuckling along with him at his joke. She glanced down at her foot and shook her head, waving to the robot butler dismissively.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's just down the hall. Plenty of furniture for me to lean on." She was accustomed to hobbling around the house, often too lazy to put on her prosthetic. She stumbled over towards their bathroom, using the wall as a brace and leaned against the door frame. Iann looked up from the sink and locked eyes with her through the mirror, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He jerked his head to the side, beckoning her closer.

"What do you think, huh? I can't decide if I should shave or not. And not your preference- I know you like the beard." Ava wobbled over, wrapping her arms around his waist for support and rested her chin on his shoulder. She smiled at him, laughing. She really did prefer the beard...

"They'll probably prefer if you shave it, as unfortunate as that is. Fits their little picture of the model soldier better." She rolled her eyes, tilting her head to rest it against his own, almost nuzzling him. His nose scrunched up and he clinked the end of his razor on the sink as he contemplated her response. She fought the urge to chuckle at his struggle to decide, instead deciding to watch him in the mirror.

There was so much she adored about this man- the way his green eyes crinkled when he smiled, how he looked at her as if she held the world aloft when he thought she wasn't looking. How attentive and protective he was, but yet... how he respected her as his equal and didn't coddle or try to control her. She lifted her hand to run it through his dark red hair, grazing her fingers along his undercut. He had adapted to military life but had refused to cut all of his hair, she thought with an amused smile. The scars on his face had healed well. They made him ruggedly handsome, she often told him. Gave him more character- even if that was the last thing he needed.

She was pulled from her thoughts when he cleared his throat, looking at her in the mirror again with a confident, teasing smile. His eyes were crinkling the way she liked. "Got something you wanna say?"

Ava chuckled, turning her head to press a quick kiss to his temple. "Have you finished your speech?"

"Mostly. There's a few parts I'm not sure about. Should I include that one time we tricked out that cadet's gun to shoot green instead of blue lasers and told him it was going to explode?"

"Probably not."

"Hm. How about how when I stole one of those fancy Chinese stealth suits from that locker in the base we ransacked?"

"Definitely not. Great story- but they'll probably just take the suit from you."

Iann pouted at her. "Well, there goes my best stories. Why'd we agree to do this again?"

She didn't mention how she'd been asking herself that all week. Instead, she shrugged. "I think there was some mention of an open bar or something afterwards?"

Iann tilted back his head and laughed. "Right, right. That'd be it. And if it blows, we'll just stop by the market and grab some of those ales, the raspberry ones? Make our own little party."

Ava smiled and pulled away. "Sounds like a plan, captain." With a devilish grin, she gave his ass a smack and hopped out of the room, trying not to snicker too loudly at his teasing whistle in response. She plopped onto their bed with a huff. "Crap, now I gotta get ready," She muttered, staring at their dresser.

Her eyes drifted to her prosthetic. It was a simple, skin-colored, medical plastic leg, purchased from the veteran's store. She hated it. It was so... _simple_. It hooked onto her leg at the knee with leather straps. It was comfortable enough, and the ankle did move to give her some range of motion, but it was ugly and she hated wearing it in public, as it caused her a bit of a limp. Normally she couldn't give less of a shit what people thought about her, but the people in her neighborhood knew she was a veteran, and so they pitied her. ' _What a sacrifice_ ', they'd mutter behind her in stores. She didn't hate them for it, but she hated being looked at that way.

Leaning forward, she glanced through their bedroom door and out of the window in Shaun's room. In the corner of their backyard was the workshop they'd built. Inside was where her better leg was.

The more complex leg, the one she'd made, worked with a series of batteries and wires that hooked up to her stump. Really, it was a remarkable piece of work. It was fortified and strong, sturdy enough for her to run and fight with it on. It was designed with functionality in mind, but it wasn't awful to look at either. Codsworth took about as much care keeping the steel smooth and shiny as he did himself, and Ava was grateful for his dedication. They often teased that if she had lost another limb she'd be one away from being a Mr.Handy herself.

She groaned in frustration and leaned forward, snatching up the ugly, plastic leg. She'd made the metal leg as a contingency plan. It was for fighting- if shit hit the fan. They'd stored it with their guns and ammo storages in the bunker underneath the workshop. And it'd hopefully stay there until they died. Never needing to be used again.

As she was having a riveting internal debate over what she should wear, Codsworth buzzed in and past her, putting away some fresh laundry. "Might I just say, Mum, your relationship with Sir just... warms my circuits! Might I ask... you've never mentioned how you both met. Obviously through your service, but..." He stopped beside her, and if he had a face, she figured he'd be smiling at her in a gentle, understanding way. "I think it might do you some good to think on it, is all! Remember the parts of your service you liked. I know you're dreading this ceremony..."

It amazed her sometimes, how human Codsworth could be. She was originally against buying a Mr.Handy. She'd done enough work with the military versions of the bots that the idea of having one in the house, let alone handling their child, unnerved her. But her experience with the Mr.Gutsy's had done nothing to prepare her for interacting with a Mr.Handy. They might have been made from the same basic design but they were nothing alike 

"Thanks, Codsworth. I will. That's good advice. Can you turn the news back on and check the weather for tonight?" She smiled at the bot as she unhooked the straps of her leg and began to slip it on.

"Of course, Mum!" He replied cheerily before leaving. Left alone again, she found herself taking his advice. She and Iann had been assigned to the same specialty recon unit. He was an intelligence officer and she had served as an enlisted SSO (Strategic Security Outcomes) officer. They'd always joked that their unit was best described as restaurant workers- but who only worked opening and closing shifts. They arrived before everyone else, set the base up and then when it closed and everyone else had moved on, they came and took everything down.

Beside her, Iann slipped into Shaun's room. She smiled, continuously impressed with how well he had adjusted to being a father. Shaun was totally unplanned... shotgun wedding sorta unplanned. But he had been their ticket to freedom. Giving them a reason to leave the military life neither of them had really wanted to be involved in, to begin with.

"Sir, Mum, you should come and see this!" Codsworth called out to them. Ava's brows furrowed at his oddly worried tone and she hurried to finish the last buckle on her leg. Iann stood in their doorway, holding Shaun, a look of concern matching what must be on her own face. He stepped aside and let her go ahead of him towards the living room.

Codsworth was hovering in front of the television. "Oh, Mum," The robot lamented. "The news!"

_Followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions... We're... we're trying to get confirmation... But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations... We do have... coming in... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God._

As sires began to wail in the neighborhood and the screams of fear and panic began to echo through their neighborhood, Ava and her husband both whispered in unified terror, "...Fuck."


	2. Brightness Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The questions had been bombarding him since the gate had begun to screech open. What was going to happen now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First small peak into Iann's PoV. Some Chapters will be purely one PoV, some will alternate! More story foundation building for this chapter!

"Ava, we need to go, _now_!"

Iann's hand was on her shoulder, shaking her. The ringing in her ears came to a halt as she was yanked back to reality. Bile rose in her throat when she looked out the window, sirens blared and their neighbors fled towards the vault up on the hill behind their home. She felt confused. It was all happening so suddenly "My leg," She began weakly.

"There's no time, we have to get to the Vault. Can you run?" Iann was already moving around the couch and to the door. Only when Shaun began to cry did she fully snap out of it. She swallowed down her panic alongside the bile and nodded. Iann bolted into the street but Ava found herself stopping by the door, looking to Codsworth.

"Codsworth, honey..."

"It's okay, Mum. Don't you worry about me."

She felt tears prick at the edges of her eyes. Tears, over a fucking robot. She smiled weakly to him and whispered, "Be safe, honey."

"And your family as well, Mum. Oh my..." He lamented to himself, turning back to the T.V. She wanted to grab him and force those damn Vault-Tech employees to let her bring him along. He'd be useful in there. Wouldn't even take food. But she couldn't waste time arguing with them. Every moment she stood around was another moment they risked dying. So she left.

"He'll be okay. Everything will be okay. We're just being cautious." Iann tried to comfort her as they ran for the vault. Some of her neighbors were packing things into their cars, yelling about driving to the shore. The older couple two doors down just stood in their living room and held each other. Ava could feel the panic rising again but she kept it down, kept it contained. She could panic later, when they were in the Vault. When they were safe.

There was a crowd around the gate leading into the Vault. Clawing at it and trying to climb up, hoisting their children in the air as if offering them to God or to Vault-Tech. Screaming and pleading. But the guards wouldn't let them in. Ava didn't need to hear the denials to know. She didn't need to ask what would happen to these people. She knew. And by the look on Iann's face, so did he.

"We need to get in! We're on the list." He all but growled at the man with the checklist, interrupting the man before he had a chance to question them. The crowd grew quiet, as if waiting to hear if her family would share their fate. 

"Male, female, infant... You're clear." He stepped aside and the crowd began to scream again. _Why them? Why were they special? Why was their child good enough?_ Their screams were drowned out by the blaring of the vault sirens. "Step onto the blue circle!" Their guide yelled to them.

Iann stood beside her, one hand holding Shaun to his chest, the other holding her elbow to help steady her. She knew she was shaking. She knew she was panicking. This couldn't really be happening, could it?

As if to answer her and confirm that yes, yes it could be happening, light flared in their eyes as an explosion rocked western Boston. The cloud rose high, red and black and vicious. Those on the platform began to yell and point, holding their heads in fear. "Down, down, send it down now!" The metal platform began to screech against the barrier of the vault as it lowered. Most of the people on the vault platform looked down or away, but Ava couldn't look anywhere but up. As the doors closed, she could see the blast wave fire over, painting her world red.

 

* * *

 

"Fucking hell," Iann muttered, rocking Shaun against his chest. The elevator had taken nearly two whole minutes to descend fully, and for every inch it lowered, the apprehension of those around him rose. Ava stood at his side, her prosthetic heel clinking against the metal platform in a broken, rhythm-less pattern. Her brows were knitted in worry. Her bottom lip was red and nearly bleeding from where she'd begun to bite it. She looked up at him, silent questions in her expression. _How far down did this thing go? Who else had made it? What was their new life going to be like?_

He wished he could tell her. He wished for a lot of things, really. To have been more prepared. To have not wasted precious minutes floundering around when the news first arrived. God, he'd glanced up when they were descending. He'd seen the blast. They'd barely made it. Iann let go of her elbow and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush to his side. He hadn't lost her in the explosion that took her leg or marred his face and he sure as hell wasn't going to let a damned nuke separate them now.

The elevator finally came to a stop. In front of them was a gate, and beyond that, was a pair in blue and yellow jumpsuits, going on about their 'new life'. The lines were typical crisis relief but with an out of place salesman tone. He could barely hear the man over the sound of the metal grating against itself as the gate rose. His neighbors clumped together like terrified sheep, a guard calmly but firmly ushering them forward.

There was no relief in anyone's expression or voice as they climbed the stairs towards the entrance. They'd just survived a nuke blast, but the Vault, the blinding brightness and beeping machines and radiation scanners and strange doctors rating their health as they passed... it felt less like they'd been saved and more like they'd jumped out of the pot and into the flame. A woman with a smile that didn't reach her eyes handed his wife two jumpsuits shortly before a doctor began ushering them forward.

"Oh, you're going to love it here! This is one of our most advanced facilities... not that the others aren't great, mind you..." Iann found himself zoning out, focusing on Shaun, who had finally begun to stop crying. With his free hand he wiped away his son's tears and poked his little chubby cheeks, causing the baby to giggle. Ava glanced back over her shoulder at the sound and smiled a small, sad smile.

"What a lovely family you have. I hope you come to see the Vault as your new home..." Around him, different doctors were helping his neighbors dress in their suits and explaining the strange screening machines beside them. When Ava stepped to the side to put on her suit, however, Shaun began to wail. Iann quickly tried to shush and comfort him, to little avail. Ava turned to look at him curiously.

"Honey, can I get some help," He pleaded. Ava came over instantly, half dressed and tying the jumpsuit's arms around her waist. She began to coo to Shaun, her voice soft and sweet, promising Shaun that everything was fine as if she believed it. 

"Here, let me have him while you get dressed." She offered, holding out her hands. Iann handed his son off and quickly began to dress in the suit.

"So what do these machines do, exactly?" One of his neighbors asked. 

"Its a cleansing and screening machine. It will remove any stray radiation or germs from the outside before we go deeper into the vault!" The doctor helping the man cheerily replied.

Iann chanced a glance at the machine to his side and felt unsure. He'd never seen something this massive for a decontamination machine. But Vault-Tech did have a crazy amount of funding, he reminded himself.

The suit felt unusual. Not uncomfortable, persay, but different. It wasn't too tight but it was something you felt at all times. The zipper locked into place at his neck and he held his arms back out to Ava. "You go ahead, I'll get him calm and go into the chamber with him." She nodded, stepping forward and placing a small kiss to his temple, and a small kiss to Shaun's head.

Shaun looked up to his mother with bright eyes, just a little red from the crying. His son had his smile, wide and toothy- well, gummy at the moment. Unlike his mother, who's expressions were always so subtle. Small smiles and little gestures. But Shaun had his mother's eyes. Wide and warm amber, telling a story with every crease, squint and pinch of her brows. His wife could tell him more with a look than some men could with an entire report. He missed seeing her work, missed seeing the oil stains on her brow that never really washed away. Would he get to see that again? Would they assign them jobs in the vault?

The questions had been bombarding him since the gate had begun to screech open. _What was going to happen now?_ Across the hallway, Ava poked the small window of her pod and gave him a little wave. A voice started to announce the status of their pods as the doctors scurried around checking the valves and screens.

"Decontamination procedure complete. Cryogenic stasis in 3... 2..." Confusion and panic had barely a second to rush over him before the darkness took him.

 

* * *

 

Ava had blacked out many times in the past. Fights, general clumsiness, booze... but this was different. The world around her went dark and then suddenly she was awake, cold, and confused. Her body was stiff, both from the frost on her suit but from lack of movement. Her joints ached in protest but she lifted her arm and shakily wiped away the frost that'd filled up the glass of her small window. 

"This is the one, here." A woman's voice. She didn't recognize it as one of the doctors and the vault was darkened? Why were the lights off? A man crossed in front of her and she realized they were gesturing and talking about Iann's pod. Were they letting them out? Maybe it was some weird processing system or...

No, something was _wrong._ This... they weren't Vault-Tech. The woman was in a fucking hazmat suit and the man looked like an angry, middle aged biker. Ava rubbed at her eyes and looked back to the duo as Iann's pod slowly opened, the sounds of Shaun's cries and his coughing echoing around the pod-filled hallway.

"I-Is it over...?" He choked out, holding Shaun to his chest to try and calm the wailing child.

"Almost." The man answered. The doctor-esque woman held out her arms, trying to take Shaun... why was she trying to take Shaun? Iann didn't need her help. He had him. 

He stated as much, holding Shaun closer to his chest. What the fuck were they doing? Ava started looking for seals inside the vault, some way out, there had to be a way out...

"I'm only going to say it once," The man's voice threatened. Ava looked back up only to see in horror a gun pointed at Iann. She began wildly beating on the door, the glass, the flimsiest looking spot. She had to get to him! 

"I'm not giving you Shaun!" Iann cried out. But his declaration was silenced by the loud, unmistakable pop of a gun firing. He slumped back into the pod as the woman ripped her son from his father's arms.

Ava heard an feral cry and didn't realize right away that it was her own. Her voice was already hoarse from whatever the pod had done but now it was broken and her throat burned but she couldn't stop screaming. Her fingers burned with pain as she clawed at the window, trying to rip out a bolt, _anything_ , but nothing worked. Nothing was enough. 

"At least we have the backup." The man sneered at her, peering up into the window. She snarled at him, slamming her fist against the window and hoped to God he sensed the reckoning he'd brought upon himself. The old son of a bitch just 'harumped' and walked away, the woman with her son already long gone. Ava tried to crane her neck to watch them leave, but as the frost settled in and the darkness retook her, she found herself focusing on the details of that man's face. That sneer. And she fell back into slumber to dream of vengeance.

 

* * *

 

The second time waking was worst than the first. Her mind was spinning. She was fully aware of what was going on, of what had happened, and unsurprisingly that made it worse. But this time, a few lights were on and a siren was blaring. Was it all just a dream? The door to her pod suddenly unlatched and she toppled out, crumbling into a pile of stiff, weakened joints and a tight, frozen suit on the hard tile flooring. Her breathing was ragged, her throat burned and she couldn't get enough air.

She laid there for god knows how long trying to calm her breathing. Distantly she realized none of the other pods are opening, Iann's pod-

"Oh god, oh god," She hissed, her breath hitching all over again. She scrambled up, her body screaming in protest. Using his pod to steady herself she peered in and saw him, her husband, her best friend, her confidant, the love of her life, clutching a wound on his side, the blood spread through his suit before freezing. "There... has to be... a release," She promised herself, looking around. In the back of the hallway is a computer. There. That'll undo it. 

The faces of her neighbors... some frozen in slumber, some staring forward with wide, blank eyes. She stumbled to a stop, not expecting to see them all so... dead. When she made it to the computer and booted it up, it confirmed her fears- they'd all died. The whole fucking vault was filled with dead cyro'd people. 

Iann's pod registered as alive, or at least, that the life-support was still online. The controls were stuck, jammed. Maybe it was for the best... She'd seen the shot. The likelyhood that he was still alive was slim to none. Her breath hitched and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Her lips wobbled and she felt her world spinning. 

_It wasn't fair!_ They'd made it to the Vault. They were supposed to be safe here. But they were tricked. Vault-Tech lied! And who were those people? It felt like she was suffocating. She had to get out. She had to breathe non-sterile, cold air. She had to find her son. She had to find help. Stopping at the entrance to the hallway she turned and looked back at her husband's pod. "I'll get them, honey." She promised. "I'll find our son. I'll make them pay." 

She tried not to think about Iann as she stumbled down the hallway. She tried not to think about her mother or her neighbors. She tried not to think of anything but evening out her breathing and finding someone to let her out of the fucking vault. The lights flickered around her, barely working. 

She walked slowly, doing her best not to trip on anything in the darkened rooms. Her foot nudged something and she had to bite her lip from screaming when she looked down to inspect it. A skeleton?? It takes one hell of a long time for a corpse to rot away to a skeleton like that... 

"W-what...? I can't be the only one left..." She muttered under her breath. "Hello?!" She called out, trying to ignore the scared waver in her voice. Her cry echoed through the empty halls and no response came.

Still, she carried on. From the corner of her eyes she spotted a baton. Finally, a from of self-defense! As she picked it up and opened it to test it's ability to work, something slammed into the window beside her. With a yelp she stumbled back, holding the baton up in defense. Sitting on the window was a giant roach, chittering and flapping it's wings. It was bigger than a damn bird. Giant _roaches_? What the hell...

Carefully she advanced, baton open and raised high. She'd beaten off an angry chicken before, she could beat up a giant gross bug. The next few rooms were littered with the nasty things, the crunch of their exoskeleton being crushed made her want to gag. Finally she reached some sort of office. A gun laid on the desk and boxes of bullets lie around it. 

Thank fuck, a real-real weapon! She wasn't a big fan of 10mm but she wasn't about to complain as she loaded it, checked the safety off and stored the extra bullets in the small, useless pockets of her suit. This damn thing was worse than her jeans. She absently wondered if the men's suits had bigger pockets...

Something terrible had happened, clearly. Bullet holes littered the walls and skeletons with ripped suits laid around the main entrance. Mutiny, she guessed. There were no other corpses, so it wasn't an invasion. But none of that explained who those other people were, how they got in, and why they were there at all; let alone why they'd take her son.

Speaking of getting out, she thought to herself. The gate was either broken or missing something, as nothing she did got the damn thing to open. She stood there, fiddling with the controls and pushing buttons and nothing responded. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the skeleton had a- oh! The pipboy! 

Gingerly she scooped it out, letting the bony hand fall to the floor with a clatter. She cringed but put the device on nonetheless and booted it up. There was a small plug on the back and... ah-ha! A matching plug was right next to the big 'open me' button on the gate controls. Ava plugged in her pipboy, receiving a confirmation of connection after a short loading screen.

This was it. She inhaled slowly and pressed the button, closing her eyes with a squint as the lights flashed on and the sirens began to wail, warning her to step back. When the walkway clanged into place she carefully but quickly exited the vault and waited for the platform's decent. 

Stepping onto the platform felt different. She had no idea how many months they'd been down here, how many years. To her, it'd felt like less than an hour. But the signs were there- the water stains, the rusted metal, the skeletons, the broken lights. She knew the world she was about to see wouldn't be anything like the one she left but... she hoped.

It was probably stupid to allow herself to hope. To dream of anything, to pray for the slim chance everything would still turn out okay. But she allowed herself to hope that it was at least recognizable. It didn't have to be alot. Just recognizable enough for her find her place in it again.

It was this tiny sliver of hope that she clung to on the elevator as it made it's loud and slow ascension. The sun was warm on her skin, and the wind whistled through the trees and past her skin in a small breeze. If she kept her eyes shut it felt normal. Like a regular sunny day. But of course that wouldn't last.

She couldn't stop the distraught gasp from escaping her lips as she opened her eyes. They actually fucking did it. Bits of green scattered the landscape in weeds and massive but broken trees. But the landscape... was dead. The dirt whipped up around the platform in a dust from even the gentlest breezes. The sky was blindingly bright. Their neighborhood... what houses remained standing were torn, rusted, broken. Like a warzone that'd been abandoned years ago.

But her house was standing. And she could see that most of their workshop seemed to be intact. She doubted their supplies were there- any survivors had probably ransacked the place. But if their bunker was still locked... her gun, her leg, and the non-perishable food stored inside would be the difference if she lived past the week. And so with a sigh, she began the decent down the hill towards the wreckage of her old life.

 


	3. In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rough?" She muttered, picturing cavemen with large sticks. "How rough can they be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ava sets out! The story will be picking up from here on out, now that the foundation is set. Next chapter is from an unexpected PoV... a slightly darker, or shall I say, tinted PoV?
> 
> Thanks for the kudos so far!

Normally she considered herself ahead of the curve. Able to expect the unexpected. And there was a lot about this hellscape that matched her expectations for a nuclear fallout.

The loose gravel, the dirty water, the deadened landscape that looked more like a desaturated photograph than real life. But there was a calmness to the air around her, a sense of finality that she couldn't decipher. The wind whispered through the husks of the forest that she used to dream about exploring with her son when he was older. The water gently lapped against the rotting, warped wood of the footbridge that creaked in protest as she tried to cross. There were birds singing but they sounded different, a little wrong, a constant reminder that despite looking familiar, this was unfamiliar territory.

But among the sounds she had expected to hear, she heard something heartbreakingly familiar that she'd dared not hope to expect. As Ava rounded the corner of the broken shambles of her next door neighbor's home, her ears picked up the sounds of quiet vrooms and muted whirs of propulsion jets. Holding her breath she crept closer, peering around the neighbor's overgrown bush. When she saw her home, somehow more tended to than the rest of the neighborhood, devoid of trash, with a trimmed garden, she couldn't stop herself from letting out a confused gasp of surprise.

As if summoned by her gasp, the vrooms and whirs descended upon her and out from the doorway popped a slightly rusted but no worse for wear Codsworth. "As I live and breathe!" He exclaimed, hurrying over to her, arms flailing around him in excitement.

"C-codsworth? Is that really you?" She asked. When he was within reach she stuck her hand out to caress his frame, scratching away a speck of rust to prove to herself she wasn't hallucinating.

"Of course, Mum! Who else would I be, the mailman? Haha!" His three eyestalks bent and stretched to look her over. "My, Mum, you look absolutely famished. Which is understandable, since you're nearly 200 years late for dinner!"

Ava's brows furrowed. _200 years_? That would have explained the slowly regrowing vegetation, but... Ava swallowed back her apprehension and looked to Codsworth. "Are you sure? 200 years?"

"A little over 210, in fact. Assuming any dings to my chronometer! Now, come on in, I'll whip you up something to eat, you and the hubby." He paused, looking around her and she felt her stomach tighten into knots. "Where is Sir, by the by? He and young Shaun were with you last I saw."

"I... I don't know how to explain it. I... did you see them? A man with a gun and a woman in a hazmat suit? They... they came into the vault and they..." Ava choked over her words, struggling to continue. The more she thought about the incident, the more she threatened to unravel. And she couldn't unravel, not yet. Not now.

"Oh, Mum, these things you're saying... Come, now, everything is fine. Perfectly fine!"

Ava squinted to the butler bot. "Codsworth are you... alright? You're acting a little... strange."

For the first time in her life, Ava watched a robot... break down. "I... I... Oh, Mum! It's been horrible! Absolutely dreadful! I tried to keep everything together but... 200 years with no one to talk to, no one to serve! How do you polish rust?! How can you wax a nuclear blown-out car!?"

Ava frowned, holding out a hand to the bot. "Hey, hey, now. Stay with me."

"I don't know anything, Mum. You and your family all left in such a hurry. I was certain you were g-gone forever." And then, as quickly as it came, Codsworth's arms spun around and he sniffled. "But- enough feeling sorry for myself! You were explaining to me what happened in the Vault? Where are the others?"

Ava nodded and gestured toward the door. "Right, lets... head inside. I'll explain." When Codsworth bobbed (a nod?) she swerved around him and headed inside.

 

* * *

 

"So a strange man and woman came into the Vault, where you and Sir were frozen without your consent, kidnapped young Shaun, potentially murdered Sir, and refroze you. Only because of another malfunction were you freed earlier today?"

Ava nodded absently. Her elbows rested on her knees and her head hung, staring at the floor. Codsworth let out a thoughtful, worried hum. "That's troubling indeed. I did not see our mystery kidnappers. And my sensors do not pick up anything in the neighborhood." Ava nodded again. For them to still be in the area would be asking too much. "What about Sir? Do you have a plan?"

With a sigh, Ava leaned back and glanced at Codsworth. "If he's... dead... I can't handle that right now. If he's not, I can't risk opening it without having the medical supplies needed to treat the injury."

"Might I suggest Concord, Mum? There are a few people still in the city, and there may be supplies."

"There are still people alive in Concord?" She wrinkled her nose in thought. "Even so, if there's medical supplies I doubt they'll just give me something that important."

"I've an idea, Mum. I can create purified water- another important supply. Take a few cans with you for trading, potentially?"

For the first time in what felt like ages, Ava felt her lips curl into a smile. "That's an excellent plan, Codsworth. I've another- I'll leave my pipboy with you. If you head into the Vault and prepare an area around Iann's pod, sanitize it and such-"

Codsworth cut her off with excitement clear in his tone. "Of course, Mum! That is a wonderful idea. There's no time to waste in saving Iann and young Shaun."

Beginning to undo the pipboy's lock, Ava gestured towards the house's backyard with her chin. "Do you still have the key to our bunker? I'm going to need more than just water if I'm trekking anywhere alone."

Forlornly Codsworth sighed, "No, Mum, the key you hid within the porch panels was melted into the house's frame. The only remaining key..."

"...Is hanging around Iann's neck." Ava finished with a groan of frustration. After a moment of consideration, she waved him off and placed the pipboy on the counter. "It's fine, I've got a gun and baton and enough ammo to provide a distraction if something happens, or to kill a rabid animal."

"What about your leg, Mum?"

Glancing down at her plastic medical prosthetic, Ava suddenly felt less sure about her odds. But there was nothing to be done for it, no way to get to her other leg and no time to waste on a pointless endeavor of trying. So she shrugged. "I can run in it. It'll be fine."

"Alrighty then, Mum. If you insist. Let me escort you to the bridge, at least."

Following behind the bot, Ava took note of the signs around her. Flowers were returning, rust was beginning to grow onto itself... all things considered, it really was starting to sound like 200 years had passed. The military had forced them to attend enough damn briefings about what a potential fallout would entail and the following nuclear winter. Eventually, everything would begin to grow back- with or without humanity surviving. She was comforted that it seemed that they had, according to Codsworth.

"Do you remember the way? Past the Red Rocket and then just a little further south down the road?"

As he spoke she went about pulling back her hair. The black curls normally didn't bother her, despite their length, but right now she didn't feel like fighting them, so she opted to pull her hair into a simple, low bun. "Yeah, I've got it. Got the water, my gun, and the baton. I've gotten out of sticker situations with less." She gave him a wink, trying to get a laugh out of him.

But instead of a laugh he just offered a warning. "Just be careful, Mum. The people there are... well, a little 'rough'. I don't want to lose you again so shortly after your return, you know."

"Alright, alright. I will."

Ava found herself chuckling as she crossed the bridge. "Rough?" She muttered, picturing cavemen with large sticks. "How rough can they be?"


	4. Show Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Which was a terrible idea, one he tried desperately to convey to his allies, but to no avail. After weeks of terrible plans, ranging from semi-plausible to straight up bullshit, Deacon had stumbled upon a solution._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's PoV and his first meeting with our dual survivors! One of them goes well, (mostly because they don't actually meet...) one of them does not.
> 
> Also! thank-you for the kudos! I'm happy folk are enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I'd love to hear what you think so feel free to drop a comment if you'd like!

"What do you think the situation is like, Deacon? It's a shitshow."

He tried not to flinch as the chalk grated across the board, striking out yet another safe house. That was two confirmed, not counting the Switchboard. He cast a sidelong glance to the opposite side and did a tally of names- they'd lost four agents so far. Three were M.I.A. Dez wasn't lying or being overdramatic... the Railroad's current state of affairs was rapidly deteriorating. And everyone was scrambling to figure out a way to curtail the descent. Himself included, of course.

He'd been there for Switchboard. He tried not to think about it, honestly. It's not like he hadn't seen combat or seen people die. It wasn't like the gore was new to him or that the people around him dying, his allies, were innocent babes. But there was something uniquely terrible about watching a courser work. That he... coping with that, in particular, was proving more difficult than the rest. How do you fight a group that can make something a courser on the fly?

"You know what I meant, boss. We've got three runners checking the drop-zones for news from the other safehouses and a slew of tourists keeping an eye out for the other missing agents." Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back on the desk behind him. "This isn't going to last," He gestured around the makeshift HQ the Switchboard survivors had made out of the abandoned apartment. "we're going to have to find something more suitable than this."

"What are you suggesting?" Dez inquired, finally turning around to look at him. She looked like death. He'd always suspected this from her. As stoic as she was, she didn't deal with failures well. Especially failures that ended with a needless loss of life. Losing these many people had hit her harder than she was letting on. Not that he was going to pry.

"Listen," Deacon started, slowing and softening his words as he spoke. He didn't want to fight with Dez, but they couldn't stay here. "I'll go search around. See if I can't find something better. Poke around a bit, do my thing." With a smirk, he lifted his hands to his head and adjusted his wig with a little extra flair- like a player adjusting his ball cap.

"It's got to be more than that, Deacon. But you're... right." Deacon feigned a gasp and placed his hand over his heart, earning him a scowl and glare. "This isn't going to last. What we've been doing... it's not enough. We've got to find some other plan. Recruit more... qualified people. I don't know." She jabbed her finger at him. "That's what you're going to do. I can find a new HQ. I need you to scour the Commonwealth for any information we might have missed. Any top-side lackeys we overlooked. Any potential recruits we ignored."

Deacon pushed off of the desk and threw Dez a sloppy two-fingered salute. Finally, she was catching on. "You got it, boss."

 

* * *

 

Months had passed since then. Nearly a year now, actually. They'd found a new HQ- a largely hidden, mostly empty underground cemetery beneath an old church downtown. He'd never been a religious type, but he couldn't ignore the symbolism of a nearly dead organization setting up camp in a cemetery. It was a little bit unfortunate, really. If it were any other group, not one that he belonged to ideally, this would be prime joke material. But alas.

After the final tallies had come in... it was bad. _Real bad_. They'd lost more agents and allies than he had been expecting. They'd lost four safehouses and were down to two heavy agents. By all accounts, they were on their last leg. The outfit was smaller now than when it was founded, according to the logs. But Deacon saw this as an opportunity. A morbid one, sure, but an opportunity nonetheless. Redesigning and reorganizing was a pain in the ass, especially when people were involved. But now the Railroad had the chance to build itself back up. To be reborn as something stronger, better, and more effective.

They desperately needed more agents, runners, and tourists. But to flood those ranks with unqualified, undedicated people would hinder them more than help. Dez and Carrington, - _his snideness_ \- had agreed quickly, seeing the value in the idea. Glory had been harder to convince, as she didn't immediately see the value in quality over quantity. Deacon couldn't really blame her, tactics weren't really her forte. Her nickname wasn't the 'angel of pre-planning' it was the 'angel of death' for a reason. She was less of a planner and more of a 'doer'. Where in this case 'doer' largely stood for 'shooter of faces'.

But eventually, with Carrington's - _may radstags always kick his shins_ \- help, she'd been swayed. And so it fell upon him, since it was his idea, after all, to formulate a plan to cherry pick the best recruits the Commonwealth had to offer.

Which was a terrible idea, one he tried desperately to convey to his allies, to no avail. After weeks of terrible plans, ranging from semi-plausible to straight up bullshit, Deacon had stumbled upon a solution.

They should set up tourists and clues hinting at a noble cause being at the end of the Freedom Trail. It was perfect since the Trail ended at the church they'd decided to squat in. Er, set up their base in. Plus, being able to read was rare but oh so useful these days. And for those who couldn't read, solving a shape-based puzzle was also a sign of intelligence. If someone could be bothered to follow the whole trail, survive the trail, and figure out the puzzle (or know how to read) then they were clearly interested, resourceful, and intelligent.

Now they just needed someone to walk the damn thing. And as much as Deacon wanted to be blissfully useless and sit around on his ass, twiddling his thumbs and wait at the church to see the first person arrive, Dez had other plans for him. Her big idea for getting information about the Institute, or at least information that could challenge their technological prowess, was the vaults scattered around the Commonwealth.

Which is how he ended up camped out on a hill overlooking Vault 111. This was the third vault he'd looked into. First, he'd looked into Vault 95. Only to find it crawling with Gunners like maggots in a feral's ass. He'd tried three different costumes and trades trying to get into Vault 81, but they'd been the most stubborn, expensive toll pass he'd ever heard of. _Seriously, three fusion cores just to tour the joint?_

Unfortunately, it was looking like he'd need to drop some caps and get those fusion cores. Because Vault 111 was looking to be just as much of a bust as the other two. He'd been out here a week give or take. He had a nice setup overlooking the vault and the ruins of the neighborhood across the creek. There were some wandering scavers around but none of them wandered close enough to be an issue.

"Man, that was my last cigarette..." He huffed, pulling his legs down from the retaining wall he'd thrown his ankles on. He liked sitting around drawing flowcharts of exactly where everything started to go to shit as much as the next person but even he could only take so much self-loathing centered behavior analysis. Bending to the side, Deacon scooped up his canister of water and opened the lid, placing the small plastic cap on his small tire table. He'd pour just enough water to put out his cigarette and-

The sound of the Vault's metal platform screeching to life startled him so badly he flailed, sending his water everywhere. Not that he could give a shit. No, he was up and off his feet, pulling off his sunglasses to peer through his binoculars in a heartbeat. This couldn't actually be happening, right? The damn thing had been closed for as long as he could remember.

Deacon was a talented man; a skilled liar and storyteller, a master at reading people, and a devilishly charming asshole. But Deacon was not lucky. Not normally. But it seemed that today was above and beyond his lucky day. His nerves ramped up until he was shaking with anticipation. The platform was slow as hell! But after a few minutes of (not so) calmly and patiently waiting, it began to rise.

He crouched low, leaving just his binoculars up above the retaining wall and squinted. A singular dweller emerged; a woman. He took a quick inventory of her person; she was average in height, slender, with long black hair that tumbled in waves. One of her suit pant legs was rolled up, revealing a prosthetic leg? Now -that- was interesting. Her suit was mostly pristine but looked oddly wet. The more he looked her over, the more he started to notice a bit of dishevelment. Tangled hair, oil or grease stains on her hands, some sort of goop spattered on the legs of the suit that reminded him of radroach blood.

She stood in the nearly exact center of the platform. He couldn't see her face, as she was facing away from him. But he could see the rigidness of her body, the ways her hands were balled into tight fists. She stood there for a minute at least, unmoving aside from the tremors and the slow opening and closing of her hands. He didn't need to see her face to see her apprehension.

The moment she opened her eyes was obvious. She recoiled physically, stepping back from the harsh landscape in front of her, her hands flying up to her face. He heard nothing, no cry, no scream. But when she whirled around to inspect her environment more thoroughly, Deacon was surprised to see a defeated sadness in her eyes instead of fear or shock. It looked like she somehow expected the world to look the way it did.

He'd imagined, or guessed, what she'd be like. Spent quite a bit of time imagining it, really. How the dweller emerging from the Vault would respond. There'd been little else for him to do, really.

He'd expected awe and fear, shock and trepidation. He had guessed that it'd be a lot like watching a newborn enter the world and seeing it for the first time. But no, while she was clearly upset, there was more resignation than alarm. The inquisitive expression, deep in consideration, reminded him more of concentration than hopelessness. Her lips pouted into a frown as she surveyed the vault landing station.

He noticed the first hint of fury in her eyes when her foot nudged the skeleton near the edge of the platform. As if reminding her of something, she looked up and over the neighborhood, scanning the horizon. The way her nostrils flared and her jaw ground he suspected that she would snarl if she did not watch herself. It was unexpected, sudden, and startling. But more so than that, it was intriguing. It made him curious to see what she would look like unleashed. Something had happened to her, recently, either because of her leaving the vault or as a cause for her exodus. That much was clear.

When she turned to head down the hill towards the neighborhood, as the fury in her eyes cooled into a smoldering determination, Deacon snatched up his satchel and followed without bothering to clean up his camp. Any thoughts about the Institute were absent for the moment, and he distantly recognized that his sudden interest in this woman and the story of her rage was dangerous and distracting. But damn it all, something in his gut urged him onward. His gut rarely lead him astray. Something about her was special. And he intended to either prove that wrong or figure out why.

He headed around her, which wasn't hard. She didn't seem to have trouble maneuvering on the prosthetic leg, despite the rocky, uneven terrain. But she was walking slowly, with uncertain steps. Deacon popped a stealth boy and headed for one of the houses in the center of the neighborhood, one with a good vantage point.

Was that a Mr.Handy? He was surprised to see one out here, still functioning no less. It was even still cleaning and trimming the damn bushes. Deacon had interacted with a few Mr.Handys before, most of them fine. But some of them get hostile and confused, especially pre-war housing units. But this Mr.Handy seemed fairly sane and calm, and so he decided he'd leave it be and only interfere if her life is in danger.

And for the third time in less than an hour, he was surprised beyond words.

"As I live and breathe!"

"C-codsworth? Is that really you?"

The Mr.Handy, er, 'Codsworth' flew out of the house, arms and eyestalks flailing in exhalation. The woman not only called him by name, but she reached out to him without hesitation, a familiar gesture to them both, judging by their posture. Codsworth joked with her, while his mystery dweller picked away at the rust on his frame, gently caring for him. At first, he'd just been intrigued, but now he was fascinated. Who was this woman?

"...since you're nearly 200 years late for dinner!" Wait, what? Deacon's head snapped back to the butler bot. Clearly, his clock was busted. She was going to correct him and they'd laugh and go back to playing house. But her eyebrows furrowed in thought like before and she tilted her head at the bot, considering his words.

"Are you sure? 200 years?"

Wait, _was she actually considering this as fact?_

"A little over 210, in fact. Assuming any dings to my chronometer! Now, come on in, I'll whip you up something to eat, you and the hubby."

Something died in her expression. She went rigid, her head pitching forward to stare at the ground. Deacon grimaced, being all too familiar with that look and the feelings that accompanied it. He felt the need to comfort this woman and instantly reeled back, surprised by the desire. She wasn't the first person he'd seen suffer and she wouldn't be the last. No, he realized the desire wasn't to comfort, but to shield. Perhaps it was because she was a vault dweller, untarnished by the wasteland?

"Where is Sir, by the by? He and young Shaun were with you last I saw." Codsworth whirred about, unaware of the torment he was inflicting on the woman. Of the inner turmoil, she was fighting not to drown in 

Her voice wobbled and she sucked in the air a bit too fast, a choked back sob. "I... I don't know how to explain it. I... did you see them? A man with a gun and a woman in a hazmat suit? They... they came into the vault and they..."

"Oh, Mum, these things you're saying... Come, now, everything is fine. Perfectly fine!"

She squinted at him, questioning him with her stare. "Codsworth are you... alright? You're acting a little... strange."

Codsworth lowered to the ground just a tad, hovering at a tilt, almost as if he too, were glancing down at his 'feet' in shame. The bot continued with his human-esque response by lamenting, "I... I... Oh, Mum! It's been horrible! Absolutely dreadful! I tried to keep everything together but... 200 years with no one to talk to, no one to serve! How do you polish rust?! How can you wax a nuclear blown-out car!?"

She reached out, running her hand along one of his eyestalks and cooed in a motherly tone, "Hey, hey, now. Stay with me."

"I don't know anything, Mum. You and your family all left in such a hurry. I was certain you were g-gone forever." And then, as quickly as it came, Codsworth's arms spun around and he sniffled. "But- enough feeling sorry for myself! You were explaining to me what happened in the Vault? Where are the others?"

She nodded, peered behind her, and then gestured toward the door. "Right, lets... head inside. I'll explain."

Deacon watched them retreat into the home. He sat in that garage, dumbfounded, for longer than he cared to admit. From what it sounded like, and looked like... this woman, his mystery dweller, was pre-war. Which would have been an amazing realization in and of itself, but what intrigued him more, no, what captivated him about her was the interaction with the bot.

She treated him like old family, she showed him compassion and kindness, she found comfort for herself in touching and interacting with him. It even seemed like she knew him well enough to pick up on behavioral cues. Deacon had just watched this woman show more concern and care to a Mr.Handy than some people show to other people. Maybe this wasn't going to prove an utter waste of work time after all.

He crept closer to their house but was unable to hear their conversation in the kitchen. At least, not without entering the home. So he snuck around the back, sitting under the window of the backyard. The large workshop was curious, but he could inspect that later. He had to catch up on the story!

"It almost would have been better if we hadn't made it to the Vault."

"Oh, don't say that, Mum."

"Codsworth, we were cryogenically frozen without our consent. They told us they'd keep us safe but they just turned us into lab rats." She made quiet chittering noises. Deacon imagined her gesturing with her hands like a mouse. "No offense, but dying instantly seems a little more desirable than starving in a wasteland ripoff of the world I used to know."

Deacon smirked. Under that veil of collected, cautious consideration was, in fact, a fiery woman who seemed intimately familiar with scathing sarcasm. His favorite kind of person!

"Yes, I suppose that's fair... but you never did explain why only you are here. Is Sir still frozen?" The butler was vrooming around the house, dishes clanging on the counter as he prepared something snack-like, if Deacon had to guess.

"He's... yes. Sort of. Maybe." She paused and then sighed. She spoke slowly, forcing her composure not to crack, but Deacon could hear the occasional waver in her voice. "I woke up the first time. A man who looked like an old pissed off biker and a woman in a hazmat suit came in. They opened Iann's vault and tried to take Shaun. Iann-"

Codsworth gasped, cutting her off. "I'm sorry, Mum, continue. The nerve!"

Deacon could hear her swallow. He could imagine the tightness of her throat, that ache of trying not to cry. Another sensation he was all too familiar with.

"R-right. Iann tried to fight her off, but the disorientation after being unthawed is... intense. The man threatened to shoot him... I couldn't get my pod to open. I couldn't do anything but beat on the glass and pray it shattered but it... it didn't. And he shot. The woman took Shaun and they froze us back up."

Codsworth had stopped moving. The room grew heavy with silence. None of them spoke. She couldn't, Codsworth simply lets her process, and Deacon would have been at a loss even if he had been able to respond. That was... harsher than he'd assumed. And it raised a lot of problematic questions.

"I woke up a few hours ago." She continued weakly. "Iann... he was frozen, holding his wound and the blood loss looks... he might be alive. But I can't risk unthawing him without being prepared to treat the injury. And we don't have those supplies. The rest... God, everyone else was dead. The pods malfunctioned, life support failed. And the workers of the vault died much earlier... they'd already decomposed into skeletons."

"So a strange man and woman came into the Vault, where you and Sir were frozen without your consent, kidnapped young Shaun, potentially murdered Sir, and refroze you. Only because of another malfunction were you freed earlier today?"

She must have nodded, or given some form of nonverbal agreement, because Codsworth continued, "That's troubling indeed. I did not see our mystery kidnappers. And my sensors..."

Deacon froze. Shit, if the bot sensed him now this whole situation could go to shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. His stealthboy was still activated, but he didn't dare breathe or twitch.

"...do not pick up anything in the neighborhood." The woman let out a disheartened, abject sigh alongside Deacon's relieved one. "What about Sir? Do you have a plan?"

The tone Codsworth used was interesting. As if he was expecting this pre-war wife to already have formulated a plan to save her husband and son. Though, recalling the cold fury in her eyes, Deacon found himself inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"If he's... dead... I can't handle that right now. If he's not, I can't risk opening it without having the medical supplies needed to treat the injury." Her tone was calculating again, disassociated and disconnected. She was looking at the situation clinically now, and the almost immediate conversion impressed Deacon. That ability to disassociate would serve her well in the wasteland.

"Might I suggest Concord, Mum? There are a few people still in the city, and there may be supplies."

"There are still people alive in Concord?" She sounded amazed, excited even. It occurred to Deacon that she'd yet to see another living person besides the kidnappers. "Even so, if there's medical supplies I doubt they'll just give me something that important." Again, impressed, Deacon nodded in agreement. She was right, no one just gave shit away in the Commonwealth, especially not medicine.

"I've an idea, Mum. I can create purified water- another important supply. Take a few cans with you for trading, potentially?"

Clever, clever idea, Mr.Handy.

"That's an excellent plan, Codsworth. I've another- I'll leave my pipboy with you. If you head into the Vault and prepare an area around Iann's pod, sanitize it and such-"

Leaving the pipboy? That'd grant him access to the vault. Perhaps Deacon could get more information while she headed into town. He was reluctant to leave her, however. What if something happened? She was smart and seemed like she could handle mental stress just fine. But could she defend herself? 

"Do you still have the key to our bunker? I'm going to need more than just water if I'm trekking anywhere alone." 

Deacon glanced at the shed. Bunker? What a weird... Deacon got up quietly and crept over, listening to the conversation still as he moved. The door was broken and removed, so he climbed the steps and peered inside. Woodworking and metal projects laid around, with two desks and separate stations on either side. 

"No, Mum, the key you hid within the porch panels was melted into the house's frame. The only remaining key..." 

In the far corner, however, was a floor latch. They'd hidden an underground bunker in their workshop. An actual damn bunker. Who were these people? 

"...Is hanging around Iann's neck." 

Deacon heard her reply as he crawled back to his spot under the window. He could hear her checking a gun and securing a metal weapon of some kind to a belt. "It's fine, I've got a gun and baton and enough ammo to provide a distraction if something happens, or to kill a rabid animal." 

So she had some combat experience. Enough to be confident about it. Interesting. 

"What about your leg, Mum?" 

"I can run in it. It'll be fine." 

Would it?

"Alrighty then, Mum. If you insist. Let me escort you to the bridge, at least." She hummed in agreement and after a few more minutes of prep, the duo headed out the front door. Deacon slipped through the window, snatched up the pipboy and followed the pair down the street, keeping a wide berth to avoid being potentially noticed by the bot's sensor. He waited in the brush across the bridge and watched their parting exchange. They chatted for a minute, Codsworth seemed to give her directions, and they shared a small laugh. 

As she passed he could see her weapon of choice, or weapon of circumstance, at least. A 10mm was strapped to one hip and a baton was strapped to another. She looked comfortable in the weapons, moreso than she did in the suit. This close to her, he could see her pick and stretch the material, constantly readjusting it. He could see the freezer burns on the material as well. 

"Borf!"

Deacon had been so engrossed in picking up on details of his mystery woman that he totally missed the large dog at the red rocket station. The woman squealed quietly in excitement and scurried forward, crouching carefully. She was going to get herself killed for sure! Deacon pulled his silenced pistol from his belt and prepared himself to fend off a feral hound.

But the dog only bounded up happily, lapping at her hand and barking playfully.

"Well hey there, what're you doing out here all by yourself?" She asked the dog as if it could answer.

The dog tilted it's head at her and whined. 

"Yeah? You're a beautiful Rottie. I'm surprised how lovely you are. It's like the radiation hasn't tarnished you at all," She cooed. "Would you like to come with me, pal?" 

When the dog barked happily and spun in a circle, she stood and laughed. "Great! Let's stick together." The dog appeared to be overjoyed. It was kinda absurd, his whole butt moved when he wagged. 

Deacon settled into a bush across the street while she scavenged the station. She had a good eye, heading for all of the ideal locations for good scrap or stored supplies. A few minutes passed like this before Deacon noticed the dog was... bothered. 

He'd grown increasingly upset in the last minute, sniffing at the ground like mad. He barked and rushed inside, herding the woman outside just in time for her to be descended upon by molerats. Deacon had his gun in hand and aimed in a second, but it quickly became apparent that he was not needed. With her good leg, she kicked the nearest molerat clear in the jaw, sending it back a few feet. Instead of drawing her gun, she snatched her baton and a nearby piece of broken pipe. With the baton, she'd disable or stun a molerat, and then impale them with the sharp end of the pipe. Alongside the dog, they made quick work of the rodents. 

She was trained. That wasn't 'mom summoning her inner maternal demon and all of her adrenaline-powered abilities'. That was a woman who'd seen combat and who'd fought before. She was calm, poised, and balanced throughout the ordeal, even despite her leg. Whatever instability her leg brought she was prepared for, overdoing or slighting movements to accommodate. But there wasn't a fury in her eyes. This wasn't all she had to offer.

She headed back into the red rocket, sat on a stool, and went about cleaning her baton. As much as Deacon wanted to stick around and watch her conquer the world, he was convinced now that he had to do more recon. He didn't even know her damn name. Clearly, she could handle herself. She'd be fine if he went and checked on the vault.

Sparing her one last glance for confirmation, Deacon crept away, back towards the vault entrance.

 

* * *

 

"There's no way to make this less loud, is there..." Deacon muttered to himself, inspecting the booth beside the vault's platform. He doubted there was a way, barring finding all of the oil in the Commonwealth to grease the damn thing up. It was now or never. Do or die. Well, not die, but... Deacon was nervous. He had an idea of what to expect in the vault, but her story had been vague enough that he wasn't sure. Wasn't positive. But he had to know.

And so he pushed the button and rushed onto the platform. It descended much faster than he remembered. Or was he just less eager for it to fully descend this time?

The vault was freezing cold and wet. Damp. Multiple pipes were burst and semi-frozen over, water and rust stains covering the floor and walls. This place looked less airtight than a box of blamco mac and cheese. The lights were so blindingly bright, even with his sunglasses, that he ran right into a skeleton in a lab coat just... laying across the floor. There were bullet holes on the ground around him. A grim sight.

Deacon pressed onward, towards the Overseer's office to his left. He knelt at the desk, pleased to find the terminal unlocked already. He went straight for the Overseer's notes, hoping to find something about his mystery dweller. But all he found was the story behind the skeletons.

A sudden noise further in the vault stopped his perusal of the entries immediately. His brows knit together and he stared down the hall where the noise had come from. He wasn't easily spooked but this place gave him the heebie-jeebies.

Out of caution, Deacon threw up a stealth boy and headed down the hallway to investigate. Slow, heavy, but steady footsteps were headed his way. Who else was down here? Were his mystery woman's kidnappers hiding down here all along? Deacon spun back around to the small rec room and crouched in the corner by the fridge.

Deacon had a lot of talents. One of those talents was reading a person and making accurate assumptions about them. He was confident in his skills, gave them a solid 80% success rate. But even if Deacon had sucked at reading people he would have known instantly who the man turning the corner was.

His vault suit was red and torn. A deep crimson that matched his hair spreading through the fabric from a wound under his ribcage. He'd made some sort of improvised gauze from one of the lab coats and was holding it tight against the wound. His brow was pinched and dusted with sweat as he slowly made his way down the hallway, using his free hand to steady himself on the wall. His mystery woman hadn't said a damn thing about what her 'Iann' looked like, but Deacon knew it was him. And it wasn't the wound or the suit or any of those details that convinced him.

No, no the detail that convinced Deacon wholly and completely that this was his mystery woman's partner was the flame of wrath burning in his expression that was a twin to her own. But his flame was dimming; not to become a cold smolder like his wife's, but because he was treading the line of death.

Deacon almost panicked. No, no his mystery woman needed her husband. He was crucial, and besides that, Deacon wasn't inclined to let a man die if he could help it. He waited for an opening, and when Iann paused to clear his throat and cough, a wet gurgle that spiked his anxiety, Deacon rushed from the room, heading back to the Overseer's office.

There he pulled out some of his stimpacks and placed them inside a drawer, leaving it ajar. Hopefully, Iann would notice them. Deacon then crept over to the corner and waited. If Iann didn't notice the stimpacks, then he'd have to wait until he collapsed to administer them himself... or in the worst case, knock him out and then administer the medicine.

Iann had a careful eye, that became apparent very quickly. Similarly to how his wife he assessed his surroundings with careful consideration. But he didn't gloss over details as much as she did. He honed in on the stimpacks immediately but instead of going over, he stopped and glared at the desk and area around it. He walked past it and towards the overseer's bedroom, checking it for something or someone. Now looking at his back, Deacon could see the bullet had grazed his side. Lucky man; he didn't have a bullet still in him.

Deacon had figured he'd be too close to death or too exhausted to notice how conspicuously well placed the stimpacks were. Clearly, he was wrong. But finally, panting, Iann decided to make his way towards the desk and all but collapsed into the chair. With wobbling hands, he unzipped his suit to access the wound and the puzzle pieces started coming together. The aforementioned key sat on a chain around his neck, accompanied by dog tags. Ex-military, huh? _Maybe that explained her prowess too?_

His hands were slow and careful, to compensate for their shake as he took the first stimpack and prepared it. He let his head droop back and he groaned in relief as the medicine began to do its job, closing up the wound. He took his time administering the last two, throwing a hand up to wipe at his face. Now was the perfect time for Deacon to leave. There wasn't really recon to be had- none of these dwellers were recorded, they were nameless lab rats for all the scientists cared. The man must have heard the vault platform descend before, and he'd certainly hear it ascend now. But Deacon was mostly sure he could outrun a recently half-dead man.

Deacon stood, gingerly, to leave the room. Iann, who had been reading the logs on the terminal glanced up, brows furrowed instantly. Deacon froze. Had he made a noise?

Iann stared at him, right at him. Not near him, not at the door behind him. It was like he could see Deacon, despite the stealth boy. His stare was unwavering and uncompromising and downright intimidating. Placing his palms on the desk for support he pushed to stand but flinched, grimacing in pain as he twisted his still healing wound. Deacon didn't need to be told twice that this was the one damn chance he was going to get, so he turned and crept out the door.

He almost didn't hear Iann behind him until it was nearly too late. Iann had run after him and descended upon him, almost managing to grab the collar of his scrappy white t-shirt. Deacon swerved around Iann's side, trying to avoid touching him but swore under his breath. Like a demon fresh out of hell, Iann's head snapped to the side where he stood. Deacon was backed to a wall, completely unsure as to how he managed to let the situation get this out of hand. Iann glared him down, slowly advancing, looking just to Deacon's side, trying to make sure Deacon didn't move.

They stood there at an impasse, Deacon trying to remain completely still, Iann slowly closing in. No words were exchanged. None were needed. This was Iann's wrath; cold and unmerciful. If Deacon didn't get his shit together and get this situation back under his control this was going to end very poorly for him. He knew that the moment he moved, Iann would hone in on him again. He was healed, enough that he was almost certainly going to live. So he'd... done his job, right? It would be okay if he just... tapped this man and made him take a medical beauty nap, right?

Hopefully. It was now or never. Do or die- for real this time. Deacon rushed to his left, Iann lunging for him immediately, as expected. Deacon ducked and turned away, avoiding being grabbed and tried to swipe at Iann's head. While Iann couldn't see the incoming swing, he somehow anticipated it, blocking the blow sloppily but still effectively with his own elbow. Deacon backpeddled, putting space between them before turning tail and barreling down the hallway.

Stealth be damned. Iann could see him half the time as long as he was moving and so at this point, the stealth boy was providing minimal support at best. Deacon slid past the door entering the main entrance of the vault and quickly closed the hallway door behind him. It would give him a few seconds to plan while Iann opened it from the other side.

Whirling around, Deacon hurried to find something, anything to use as a tool to knock this asshole out. A foldable chair sat propped against the wall. God, this was going to suck for Iann if he pulled it off, but the other option was being strangled by the angry father of the year, so really it was an easy choice. Deacon snatched up the chair and stood with his back against the wall and waited. He had one chance to pull this off.

As expected, Iann did not burst through the door the second it opened. I'm getting good at reading this guy's strategy, Deacon thought smugly.

Until Iann never crossed the threshold. Deacon stood there, poised to strike for a minute before he began to worry. Had he passed out because of the injury? Deacon couldn't be that lucky. He'd used up his luck for the century already with this vault opening in the first place.

The hallway door behind him opened without warning. Shit, he was really, really not that lucky! He spun around, a mixture of shock and mild amusement rushing over him as he turned and saw Iann also hefting a foldable chair above his head. But his injury was (finally) beginning taking a toll on him, his movements were slower, sluggish. It was shitty, but again, do or be done in, and so Deacon swung low, clanging the metal chair into Iann's legs.

Iann hissed in pain. Dropping the chair he pitched forward and fell to his knee. Deacon dropped his own chair, again, not wanting to seriously injure this guy, and instead slammed his elbow down on the crown of Iann's head. He groaned and wobbled but slumped forward, falling unconscious on the ground. Deacon stumbled back, catching his breath.

"Man, what a wild ride. Like one of those pre-war wrestling shows." Deacon quipped, crouching at the other man's side. He leaned forward and nudged Iann over, wincing. At least the wound hadn't reopened. He'd be fine. Well... fine and furious. "You're gonna want to kill me, aren't you? That's going to be... inconvenient, isn't it?" He sighed and adjusted his wig before standing.

Iann was unconscious, his wife was nearby and going to return soon. Even if she didn't manage to secure medical supplies Iann would be fine. Sure, he may have knocked out the guy and beat the shit out of his shins with a chair... Deacon had done his good deed for the day. And learned a bit more about his mystery woman and her situation.

Nodding, Deacon began to flip the switches and secure an exit from the vault. He'd spied a few other pipboys around so if Iann woke up before his wife returned he'd be able to get out on his own. Overall, this was a successful albeit messy job well done. Pat on the back for Deacon!

As he rode the platform back to the surface, he decided he should return the pipboy and go keep tabs on his mystery woman. She'd probably be able to handle herself, but Deacon was invested in this ordeal now and that strange gut feeling was back. Something told him she was going to need assistance.


	5. Red Brick, Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She had no weapons, just the suit. The rapidly failing and breaking suit. She was going to die. She had one more shitty, shitty idea and it was either going to be her end or her salvation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ava learns how dangerous and utterly stupid the wasteland Commonwealth is in a sudden, brutal lesson.
> 
> A few quick notes: Firstly, thanks for the kudos and comments!! I love getting feedback and hearing what ya'll are enjoying.  
> Secondly, we're starting to earn that swearing tag, as pissed off Ava has one hell of a sailor's mouth.  
> Thirdly, to ease any potential confusion, there will be no DeaconXsurvivors. He's invested and a little obsessed, but there won't be any unrequited love or crushes coming from him. Some BFF action later, perhaps, but that's it. I always imagine that Deacon gets a little... obsessive with the PC, especially as you progress through his relationship with the PC(s).  
> I've got the next few chapters planned out. This fic is going to be very long at this rate, so buckle in.

 Getting in and out of his mystery dweller's home to put back the pipboy was significantly harder than it had been to take the damn thing in the first place. Codsworth had been absolutely beside himself, rushing through the rooms of the house, throwing it apart and putting it back together, desperately searching for the device. It almost made Deacon feel bad. But eventually, he'd be able to tell them all how he saved Iann's life and they'd all laugh about this later. Probably. Hopefully.

Deacon had hoped a little that his mystery dweller was still at the red rocket. It was unlikely, she was a woman with a mission after all, but he would have enjoyed not missing out on any of her adventure. He crept through the old car repair station, giving it a quick perusal in case anything of importance had been missed. Lucky for him, she had overlooked an entire collection box of caps. She probably thought they were worthless, probably hadn't even noticed them as something worth taking.

Deacon added them to his own stash and headed for the city down the road. Not sure where she was within the empty buildings he stuck to the shadows, creeping along alley walls and lying in wait before moving on.

"Ah! You little bitch-"

Deacon stilled, hiding in a door frame of the house beside him. Who was yelling? Was there trouble? Quickly, he maneuvered upstairs, finding a blown-out window and looked down to the street below. There was his mystery dweller, armed with her 10mm and crouching behind a car. In the street were at least five raiders. Not the lazy chem-addled types, the heavily armed assault group types. The kind who hit caravans. The kind who ruin everything.

"Goddamnit," Deacon hissed, pulling his pistol out. He didn't want to blow his cover, but he would if it meant keeping her alive. She was doing well so far, having killed the caboose of the group, who now lay at her side. Deacon was convinced of his earlier theory; she was almost certainly ex-military as well. Her dog-friend was gone, Deacon noticed. He also noticed a man in the balcony of the furthest building, sniping at the raiders (or at her but with horrible aim) with a laser musket.

His mystery dweller jumped up and quickly fired off two rounds, hitting the nearest raider in the leg and then in the back. He stumbled and fell forward, his metal 'armor' clanging loudly on the ground. His friend spun around and yelled out, but his dweller was fast and had already ducked back down and was hidden from view. Deacon readied his pistol, ready to take out the now advancing raider. But before he had the chance, dog-friend made a magnificently timed reappearance, lunging out from an alleyway and clamping his jaws around the raider's arm. His dweller wasted no time, bending around the car to fire a round at the snared raider. It didn't kill him, but it weakened him enough for the dog to yank him down and finish the job. The mutt trotted back towards his new owner, who wiped his muzzle clean with her sleeve and patted his side.

Deacon then watched in mild amazement as she crouched and crawled her way to the alley her dog had come out of, managing to avoid being seen by the remaining raider up by the street corner. She stood with her back flush against the wall but did something... confusing. She holstered her gun, pulled out the baton, and then spun around the corner of the alley and charged at the raider. Her voice carried louder and clearer than the raiders and so Deacon heard her clearly,

"Hey, asshole, I've taken shits that were prettier than you!"

Deacon wanted to laugh, but his nerves kept his mouth clamped shut. She obviously had a plan but he couldn't figure out what it was aside from a suicide rush. The raider spun around, confused but angry, and despite the moment of confused hesitation, he rose his gun, aiming it at her. But his shot never came and thus never harmed his dweller.

The sniper up on the balcony had seen the play as well, but unlike Deacon had managed to put it together and respond accordingly. The sound of his musket rang out and a beam of red surged forward, striking the raider in the back. They collapsed on the ground and his mystery dweller stopped her charge, lowered her weapon, and looked up at the balcony. Deacon couldn't hear what was said between them, but when the man turned from the balcony to reenter the building, she followed, snatching up a weapon from a corpse outside the front door.

After she was out of sight, Deacon finally allowed himself to relax a fraction and he let out a giddy, airy laugh. _Holy shit_ , this woman was insane. The show wasn't over yet, Deacon knew that. There were probably more raiders around or inside the building- or both. But there wasn't a way for him to go inside as well. So he settled down in the house and resolved himself to watch and wait. Eventually, she'd come back out...

 

* * *

 

There had been a time in Ava's younger years where she considered herself a proud anarchist. The government was corrupt, stupid, and useless. By God, it was just a better plan to throw it all in the dumpster and set it on fire. It wasn't until she was older that she grew to realize that dumpster fires tend to smell worse than trash just lying around.

And it wasn't until now, when some lawless assholes, in a lawless wasteland, in the dumpster fire that had become her life, were shooting at her that it really sunk in that even a shitty government was better than letting people just decide how to run their own lives. Because people fucking sucked. Not all people, naturally, but considering all but none of the people she'd met or encountered in this place had either tried to kill her or steal from her or both...

A bullet whizzed past her head as she ducked behind a car. She could debate the philosophical concept of inherent goodness later. These assholes were clearly not good people. And were shooting at her. And so Ava figured she wouldn't have to feel bad for removing them from the equation altogether. Dogmeat borfed softly beside her, gave her an odd look and then ran off, back the way they'd came. Whelp, either the mutt was useless or he had some sort of plan.

A dog with a plan. Oh, today was going so well. Her life in a dog's paws.

"Whatever, life is already so god damned weird... This... might as well happen," She sighed, glancing down at the corpse of one of these assholes beside her. His hands were clenched around his gun, some... shitty makeshift revolver, which was genuinely impressive in a 'look what I did' DIY sense, but ultimately not something she had the luxury of inspecting right now. She pulled her own 10mm from her hip, gave it a quick look over and turned off the safety. It'd been a long time since she'd had to fire at an actual person, but she'd manage. She just needed to conserve ammo.

She swiveled on her hip to sneak a peek through a broken part of the car frame. There were... five targets at the moment. And some asshole on a balcony but he was also shooting at the raiders with a... wooden laser gun. What was with all the scrappy wood guns? _Christ._ Regardless, he was a potential ally or at the very least an enemy of my enemy and thus her friend.

She inhaled and exhaled once, calming her nerves and readying herself. Up, down, easy shots. Don't linger, don't make yourself a target. Up she went, honing in on the nearest raider, who had a fucking shopping cart around his head as if it made him look intimidating instead of akin to a petulant toddler who got stuck during a tantru- Inhale, exhale, clear thoughts.

Ava fired at his leg, disabling him from turning her way or looking at her. He cried out and began to fall, so she quickly fired another towards his back, mentally cheering when it hit in the middle, between his shoulder blades. A clean shot.

She ducked back down, cowering against the car. She couldn't see the asshole's friend respond, but she heard him, and she knew he'd seen her. Shit. She put her knee on the ground to steady herself and scooted back, ready for him to appear around the car. She was in a tight spot, but she'd been in worse before. She just had to be careful and ready...

"Ah, fuck, get off!" The man shrieked in pain, his howls accompanied by the low, vicious growl of a dog. The dog really did have a plan! _What a weird fucking day..._

Nonetheless, Ava whipped around the car to see the man being snared and stilled, his arm securely in the dog's maw. It was holding him like a cop dog held a perp, which was interesting, but also not something she had time to inspect right now. So she fired a shot at his gut and he jerked forward, clamping his free hand over the wound. She was prepared to take another shot but the dog beat her to it, releasing the arm and replacing it with the asshole's neck. One sharp jerking motion and the neck was ripped open. When the corpse was on the ground the dog borfed again and trotted over, sitting down next to her, looking like the proudest little son of a bitch.

"Good boy, what a good, vicious, sweetie pie," She cooed, wiping his muzzle free of the viscera from the man's throat. "Come on, this is a shit vantage point, show me the alley, boy." As instructed, the dog bounded forward and hid in an alley. It took a bit of straining, but Ava managed to hastily sneak along the wall and slip into the alley alongside him.

The sniper on the balcony had taken out two of the last three raiders. He was in a fire-fight with the last one, and he'd seen her a few times but hadn't shot at her. They'd locked eyes as she raced to the alley. He looked like a good man. At the very least a temporary ally.

Ava glanced down at her gun and swore under her breath. She was running out of ammo. She didn't know when she'd get more reliably, so she wanted to stay above a certain threshold. A plan came to her, and it was an absolutely shitty, shitty plan. But some of her most successful endeavors were the product of a shitty, shitty plan. And so she holstered her gun and pulled her baton ready. She poked her head around the alley and peered up at the balcony. When the man noticed her and they locked eyes, she looked between him and the raider and nodded. Hopefully, he got the cue. He wasn't Iann, so it was a toss-up, but she prayed he fucking got the cue. It wasn't like she could call a timeout and huddle.

Ava spun around the corner, hoisted her baton high and charged (wobble charged, fucking leg). "Hey, asshole! I've taken shits that look prettier than you!" She bellowed. The taunt worked, and the raider spun around, confusion clear on his face. It didn't last, anger replaced it fairly quickly and he rose his gun at her. She was prepared for this and was ready to dive to the side, but the balcony man had seemingly either understood her plan or was great an improvising because he fired.

And boy-howdy was it a good shot. Square in the back, the loud crack of the laser musket rang out around the street and the raider fell into a comical heap on the sidewalk. Ava slowed down, put her baton back on her belt and looked up, ready to thank her strange balcony friend. But he cut her off,

"Hey! Thank-you, but there are more inside! I've got settlers here and the raiders are almost to the door! Grab that laser musket and help, please!"

"Right, yeah, okay! Give me a second, I'll be right in!" What was she doing? She didn't know these people. She didn't have the supplies, time, or energy to help these people. She had her own shit to deal with. This world was fuck or get fucked, she should just turn around and run away. But here she was, picking up the musket off of balcony boy's dead friend, securing the ammo in her tiny, shitty pockets, and holding the door open for her dog to creep in.

_Fucking morals._

There were two raiders posted up on a walkway, firing into the office that must connect to the balcony. The sounds of gunfire and yelling filled the broken building, and so Ava couldn't tell how many were inside. Too many, probably. But, they hadn't seen her enter so she lingered in the shadows and took a second to inspect the gun. Christ, this was something out of a history book. It had a crank. A _fucking crank_. She wound it gingerly, not wanting to make much sound. It clinked after two charges, blissfully quietly. That was reasonable. Two shots were an acceptable amount per crank.

Carefully, sticking to the shadows, she crept forward and took aim. She could only imagine the recoil on this thing, but here she was, aiming it, intending to shoot it, because this is what her life had become. A wasteland superhero because despite being a piece of shit she was a nice piece of shit who cared about people's wellbeing.

Huffing in irritation she pressed the trigger. The recoil wasn't as bad as she was expecting, but good lord was it loud. She barely had a second to aim at the other raider and fire before the whole place, which was already filled with yelling and gunfire to get even louder.

"There's someone else in here! Scatter!" Yes, scatter. By all means, become easier to pick off.

"Gotta appreciate the small mercies," she muttered under her breath, standing and heading for the open hallway. A shot blew past her, grazing her arm. Hissing, she followed the direction it came from. Across the entry was a raider, shooting her from an opening. Asshole! She dived forward for the hallway, cranked the gun fully and held it up. Why hadn't she just run away?

She fell back into old habits, semi-crouched, gun raised, bracing arm ready to reach out and grapple a bitch. Hallway one was cleared, and room two was nearing being cleared when an asshole popped out around the doorway and threw an actual brick at her. She fired a shot but missed, hiding beside the door in the same motion. When neither of them made the next move she began to grow impatient.

"Oh no, my gun is out of ammo!" She lamented, completely positive that this plan would not work. But lo, par the course, her shitty, shitty plan worked and the raider laughed and charged forward.

"Holy shit, these people are idiots," She grumbled, holding her gun up and waiting. When the raider crossed the threshold of the door she slammed the hilt into the side of her face and then once more in the back of her head. Blood from the impact spattered onto Ava's face and she sputtered, trying to wipe most of it away. The woman collapsed on the ground at her feet, and Ava took a moment to relish in this most comedic of outcomes. She was honestly still a little surprised it worked.

The dog, who'd been silent and crouched beside her nudged the body with his nose and whined.

"What's that, boy? You find something?" Ava crouched and rifled through the pockets of the raider. She found a baseball with a strange fixture up top and a- oh. Ohh. Oh, yes. Ava bit her knuckle and groaned.

"An explosive? Ooooho, yes. Hello, beautiful."

With her new find and her re-cranked rifle she stood and continued onward. Around the corner was a raider, keeping watch over the entrance to the main hall. She pursed her lips. Could she get a three out of three on her terrible plans? Slowly, with her gun raised, she crept forward, ready for the raider to turn around. But he never did. Excellent. Ava, now almost right behind him, pulled the pin on the grenade.

"Hey, can you hold this?" She asked nonchalantly, holding out the baseball explosive. He must have been zoning out because he only grumbled a non-committal noise of agreement and accepted the ball. Ava spun on her heel and sprinted away, rushing for the door to the other room.

"Wait, wha-" She heard him begin before the explosive went off. Wood splinters and debris flew past the door. That'd been close.

"This is starting to get sad, boy. I'm afraid I'm taking advantage of them." She huffed, petting her dog as she leaned around the doorway to survey her work. He was dead as hell and the doorway was blown away, but overall the explosive had been weak enough (surprisingly) to not level the structural integrity of the building.

She gingerly tiptoed through the gore, trying not to step in too much of it. She was drenched in enough blood as it was. The first floor had caved in long ago, but the blood and guts of the raider dipped down the floorboards, leaving a gory trail down to the exposed basement below. In the back of the room, Ava noticed a gated off generator. Maybe if she took out the fusion core the lights would turn off? That'd be useful.

Ava jiggled the door, but it was secure. She normally could pick a lock but she had nothing on her that would suffice. So she turned to the terminal on the wall instead. She wasn't the best hack, but she could handle a weak encryption. Luck was ever on her side, as it only took her a few minutes and attempts to get the door open. She snatched the fusion core out of the generator, and while the lights did flicker, they remained on, much to her disappointment. Ava looked up at the lights and pouted.

"Oh well... onward, I suppose." She pocketed the fusion core inside her vault suit and started up the stairs. There was only one functional doorway, which she took. At the end of the passage, she could hear two raiders conversing.

"I'm telling you, man, we should get out of here."

"We hold out for the others."

"Are you crazy, man? Some crazy bitch is shooting the place up, using explosives? I'm not waiting around to get shot."

"Honestly, I probably would kill you even if you tried to flee. I'm kinda in a shit mood right now," She drawled, firing her musket through the window in front of her. The raider collapsed in a heap and the other, armed with a fucking pool table cue- seriously? A pool table...

Ava stood, dumbfounded as the man charged her. There wasn't even, like, nails in it or something. He could break that thing scratching his ass crack with it too vigorously. How did _that_ qualify as a weapon??

"Whatever, fuck it." She sighed and fired. Twenty minutes ago she was angry. Now she was just done with all of this. Her inner monologue had dissolved into just repeatedly asking herself, 'why is this happening' and 'why did I do this'.

She stepped over the corpses in the room, sparing them little more than a glance for anything loot worthy. She could hear two more above her, insulting and swearing at the people trapped in the office. She climbed the steps quickly, not putting nearly as much effort into her stealth as before. She anticipated poorly armed morons like before.

She anticipated correctly. One of them stood in front of the door, the wall between her and them torn apart, wiring and piping visible. She pulled her 10mm out and fired at his side. He yelped in pain and grabbed the wound, stumbling away from the wall and fell over the balcony. He landed very, very poorly, judging by the crunch of impact. His friend whirled around and began firing wildly at the wall, but she was already gone, peering around the open door behind him. A quick shot to his skull painted the door to the office red before he fell to his knees and slumped forward against the wall.

The door to the office opened a few moments after before she'd made it close enough to knock. The man from the balcony ushered her and her dog in and closed it behind her. And it was then that Ava was reminded 'why she did this'. These people were good people. It wasn't difficult to tell. They deserved her help if she was able to give it.

An elderly woman sat on the couch of the office, while a young couple occupied the far side. The man was curled into a ball, sobbing and panicking, while his wife paced in stoic, albeit tense determination. The two men at the door, balcony man and some man in overalls eyed her cautiously. It almost made her self-conscious, and she remembered the blood on her face, which she wiped at vigorously once more.

The balcony man finally broke the silence and exhaled in a quick, relieved burst of air, "Man, I don't know who you are, but your timing is impeccable." He stuck out his hand and Ava coulda cried. Polite and intelligent? Sweet bitch, finally. She accepted his hand and happily shook it.

"Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen." Minutemen? Curious, but she wasn't about to pry or show her utter ignorance of this time. They looked like good people, but she couldn't risk getting taken advantage of.

"Ava Anders. Glad to help." She glanced at the others in the room. "Who are you all?"

"Behind me is Sturges. That's Mama Murphy on the couch and the Longs. We're settlers. Figured this place would be a good place to settle down but those raiders proved us wrong."

Ava curled her lips in a sad but understanding smile. "That sucks, I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" He inquired. "It's... nice to meet someone who really cares." By the tone of his voice, it sounded like he'd had less luck in the 'meeting non-shitty people' department lately. Her heart went out to him- to all of them. "Listen, the raiders? There will be more of them. But, if you're willing to help again, I think we have a plan that'll get rid of them for good."

Ava tilted her head. "Oh yeah? Well, let's hear it."

He turned to Sturges, who turned to face her. "You probably saw the crashed vertibird on the way in. Well, one of its passengers was carrying a seriously sweet goody. We're talking a cherry suit of T-45 power armor. Military issue."

Ava felt her blood begin to pump in excitement and judging by the surprise in both Sturges' and Preston's expressions, it was obvious. Sturges lifted a hand as if to rationalize with her, "But, the suit's out of juice. It could be powered up again, but..."

Ava cut him off, pulling the fusion core out of her suit. "I got it. I found this downstairs, tried to turn the lights off to sneak better but... this is a much better use."

After a moment of shocked silence, Sturges let out a boisterous laugh. "Well, I'll be damned."

Preston joined him with laughter of his own. "Maybe our luck is finally turning around?"

"Maybe, I've been told that my luck bleeds into other's lives sometimes." She grinned, looking between the two of them.

"Now hold on, missy. It gets even better. The vertibird comes equipped with a minigun. If you can rip the minigun off the vertibird, it'll give those raiders an express ticket to hell, ya dig?"

"Oh, you sweet southern peach, that's the most beautiful thing I've heard all day." Ava cackled. "That's perfect. I'll get right on that."

Preston gestured towards a door on the other end of the office. "There's a path to the roof that way, ma'am. We'll watch your dog, he seems to have taken a  liking to Mama Murphy over there."

Ava nodded and looked over to her pup and Mama Murphy. The old woman looked up at her, sort of... through her, and crooned, "Oh, you're not what I expected Dogmeat would find in that old neighborhood."

"Dogmeat, huh? He's a good dog."

"Oh, he sure is. And he picks his friends well. He'll stay by you now, I saw it."

_Oh boy._ "You 'saw' it?"

"It's the chems, kid," The old woman grinned and rocked a little in place. "They let me see a little of what was, and what will be."

"Uh-huh, right."

Mama Murphy chuckled and then frowned. "Just, listen, kid, be careful. There's... somethin' coming. And it's... angry."

"Yeah? Is it me? My transformation into a bitter old woman is almost complete." Beside her, Preston snorted back a laugh. "Either way, ma'am, don't worry. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. Just keep Dogmeat company, will you?"

"I wish I could help you more, kid. Good luck."

Ava was nearly shoulder checked by the pacing woman, not because she was being rude, but because the woman was so zoned out. Her head snapped up to look at Ava and she seemed to bite her tongue on something she wanted to say. Ava could understand. She'd seen plenty of people lose their homes in conflict zones. This woman had lost something and it wasn't Ava's job to pry nor was it her job to get righteous. So she just slipped out the door and headed for the roof.

Oh, man, Sturges knew his power armor alright. The suit was in fairly good condition by all accounts, only a bit of damage in the helm and arm. But that was fine, she wasn't going to be lifting or maneuvering a lot, just holding something at the hip. The fusion core slipped in without issue and the suit powered up, just like she remembered. It felt odd trying to walk in the suit- it didn't play terrifically with her prosthetic. But it worked, and as long as she could find a good place to stand and lock her legs into place, nothing short of a semi-truck was going to knock her over.

Now, the minigun was potentially another issue altogether. Despite her excitement, she'd only ever used one a few times before, and only in training. But her main concern was ripping it off of the vertibird without damaging it or ripping it off in a way that made it unwieldy. After staring at it for a hot minute, she found a latch system and was relieved to see that it was just a few bolts holding it onto the stand. With a grunt, she hefted it up and off of the stand, banged her fist into its side to ensure the clip was secure and nodded. Everything was good to go.

Operation 'efficiently murder assholes' was in effect. She stepped out onto the opening of the roof and looked down, searching for-

"Hey, boss, someone's up here!"

Ava looked up quickly, noticing a raider on the roof across from her. She watched him slowly look up from the street, down to her minigun, down to the street again, and then finally, back up to her minigun, which she lifted slightly to assist him.

"Holy shit, she's got a fucking minigun!" He screamed, diving off of the roof and onto a lower roof behind that building. Cackling, Ava revved up the gun and fired a few bursts of shots down at the street, missing on purpose. Let's see how really stupid these fuckers were, she thought to herself.

Sure enough, they crept closer, struggling to get potshots at her from far away. Not that it was going to do much to the suit regardless, but hey, points for effort?

"Let's see that minigun up close, yeah?" One of them taunted. You want a closer look? She thought. Sure, why not?

When she deemed them close enough, Ava backpeddled and then ran forward, launching herself off of the roof towards them. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she thought she heard Preston question, "What the hell?" as she fell past him.

She landed on the concrete with a thunderous thud, the concrete cracking and splintering beneath her. A few of the raiders closest stumbled back, clearly not expecting her to cannonball down to the surface. Their faltering steps gave her the advantage (or rather, gave her more of an advantage), and she revved up the gun, tearing them to shreds with ease. Ava took a few steps, getting into a better position off to an angle and locked her legs into place. The servos and locks were old in the joints and they'd take some work to get going again, but she wasn't trying to run a marathon in the suit, so it didn't matter.

The standoff lasted for awhile, she wasn't keen on wasting ammo, however abundant it was at the moment, and so instead of constantly laying into them, she fired off bursts whenever a raider was too risky or stupid and exposed themselves long enough for her to get a certain hit. Any she missed, or any more tricky shots, Preston seemed to get for her, sniping from the balcony. They were making one heck of a team.

And then a roar that made her blood run cold erupted from the sewers behind the raiders. Had they blown something up underneath the road in the waterways?

"What the fuck was that?" She was nearly cut off as the grate to the sewer system flew off and away. She froze and stopped firing, eyes locking on the site behind the raiders. One massive, scaly, clawed hand emerged and gripped the road. Another followed shortly after, pulling a beast from the sewer grate. An actual, honest to goodness, twelve-foot tall _lizard monster_ just pulled itself out of the fucking sewers.

Ava was quickly back to the 'why did I do this' mindset. Even if she had nothing to live for, no husband potentially waiting on her, no son to save... she still wouldn't be keen on fighting that thing. It roared and swiped at the nearest raider, slicing him into three different parts.

"Oh, son of a _BITCH_. No, no, no, no, god no," she began chanting, trying to get the legs to unlock. Oh, all of her luck had run out. She was out of shitty ideas. Well, no, she had one shitty idea left. She looked down at the minigun and sighed. Her legs weren't going to unlock in time to run before it saw her and she sure as shit wasn't getting out of the suit.

The monster was making quick work out of the raiders, at least, so that was... nice. And disgusting. Mostly disgusting. If she had wanted sashimi she wasn't going to get it in raider form.

"Preston! Aim for its legs! If we can immobilize it we can lay into its ass!" She shouted over the revving of her gun.

"Are you seriously going to try and fight that?!"

"Have you not seen this film before? Do you not know how this works? It's gonna kill us if we don't kill it." She didn't wait for his response, she simply opened fire at the beast's legs. And it didn't do a god damned thing except irritate it. It whipped around to look at her. Its nostrils flared and the predator honed in on its new prey, dropping to all fours and charging her. It wasn't a semi-truck but it was a decent equivalent...

"Shit, shit, shit... Shoot it more!" She screamed, trying to unlock the legs again with one hand and semi-blindly firing at the beast with the other. Just in the nick of time, the legs unlocked, and she narrowly missed a swipe by the beast. She tried to run around it, to get away, but it spun and slammed it's tail into her, sending her flying back into the brick wall behind her. The crash broke what was left of the helm's connector joints. When she sat up it fell off along with the plating of one of the suit's arms.

The beast reared around and descended upon her, lifting its arms for another slash. She lifted her arm in time to block the majority of the blow, but the weight of its clawed hand pushed her arm down and she felt a burning pain on her face. She cried out and recoiled. She was going to die here. If she didn't do something she was going to die!

Snarling, she pushed up, wrapping her arms around the beast's midsection and pushing away like in a game of football. She released it and tilted back, slamming her fist into the weaker underside of the beast's neck and jaw. It howled and recoiled, backing away to reestablish itself. Ava glanced at her side. She was too far from her gun. She had no weapons, just the suit. The rapidly failing and breaking suit. She was going to die. She had one more shitty, shitty idea and it was either going to be her end or her salvation.

"Preston!" She screamed, backing towards the museum slowly as the beast circled her. "Aim for its throat!" She didn't hear a response. She could barely hear anything over the blood pumping in her ears. She realized absently that she was struggling to see, that her vision was blackening and tunneling. So she let out a battle cry that was two parts anger and one part terror and lunged, arms outstretched.

The beast mimicked her movements, slamming its claws into her shoulder and hip. She didn't feel a burning pain so either she was actually dying from blood loss and felt nothing or its claws didn't pierce the armor. Either way, her hands surged forward and grabbed the beast's maw. Opening it was proving harder than she'd expected.

"C-come on, just like... a dog, trying to see what they're... eating this time," She panted, struggling against the weight of the monster and her own exhaustion. In a last-ditch effort, she pinched the softer skin of its nostrils and yanked. The beast roared in response, giving her, and Preston, the opening they needed.

And Preston, bless his heart, played his part perfectly. A laser shot zoomed past her, into the beast's mouth and right out the back of its throat. Its claws released her and it stumbled back, gurgling and growling as it tried to understand what happened to it. It fell to the ground and writhed as it bled out.

Ava backed away a few steps, but her adrenaline faded much faster than she'd hoped. She yanked on the suit, not wanting to die or pass out in a malfunctioning piece of outdated armor. The back opened and she toppled out, landing on the ground in a groaning heap. Her vision was almost completely blackened and she couldn't hear over the sound of her own steadily decreasing heartbeat. She tried to roll over or sit up but despite not being able to see, vertigo overwhelmed her and she collapsed again.

"Fucking... _bullshit,_ " She hissed, trying to concentrate on not passing out. It felt like she was being manhandled or lifted like there was a voice scolding her for being a fucking moron (a well-deserved scolding). She faded out to this feeling, allowing herself to pretend it was Iann she felt tending to her.

 

* * *

 

"What the hell are you doing, woman?" Deacon hissed in worry, watching her appear on the rooftop in a suit of power armor. He'd repositioned while she was inside, getting into a second story room of an abandoned building close to the museum. He was lucky he didn't pick the building next to this one, as the raider group reappeared and set up inside, barricading the doors. Either way, he'd be in a better position to help if something went wrong from here.

"Let's see that minigun up close, yeah?" The head honcho, who'd been yelling commands since the group arrived was not a smart man. This was made obvious by his shitty orders moments earlier but was currently reinforced as he taunted the woman in a suit of power armor wielding a minigun. Instead of continuing to fire and respond to his taunt, his dweller backpeddled, vanishing from sight.

She reappeared only moments later, launching herself off of the roof with full confidence. She landed on the ground like a goddess of destruction landing from the heavens, cracking and shattering the concrete below her. Deacon let out a low, quiet whistle, watching in appreciation as she quickly revved up the gun, taking advantage of the weakness her scurrying targets provided her.

She was careful and clearly had a knack for strategy. Instead of firing nonstop, she kept the gun hot but only fired in short bursts. The man on the balcony would tease or force a raider out of hiding and she'd finish the job. They were working well together. Deacon had just settled back, content enough with their ability to work together that he didn't feel his help was necessary when he heard it.

Deacon sat up and craned his neck around to look for the source. Why, and more importantly, how, was a deathclaw all the way up here? This was not good. This was so, so not good. He looked towards his dweller and her balcony buddy. Balcony buddy knew. He'd gone pale and stopped shooting, looking around just as Deacon had. But she kept on shooting. She had stilled a moment, so she had heard the roar. But she had no idea what was about to happen. How could she? He had to get her out of there. Power armor or no, this wasn't a fight she was going to walk away from unscathed.

He didn't get a chance to act. The sewer! It came out of the sewer, throwing the grate to the side like it weighed absolutely nothing. Its claws raked a man in three as it descended upon the scurrying raiders in a frenzy. Good, the raiders were distracting it. She could run away-

"Preston! Aim for its legs! If we can immobilize it we can lay into its ass!"

"Are you seriously going to try and fight that!?" This 'Preston' man took the words right out of Deacon's mouth. He stood, hands raking through his wig and gripping his gun as panic overtook him. _What was she doing?_

She let her gun rip, aiming at the deathclaw's legs. It was a good plan if you didn't know anything about a deathclaw. But Deacon did. Deacon knew it wasn't going to do anything. And when the deathclaw reared it's ugly, terrifying face around to glare at his dweller he felt his heart in his throat. When it dropped to all fours and charged for her, he almost screamed at her.

Instead, he sucked in a sharp intake of air and hissed in desperation, "What are you doing? Run! Why aren't you moving?"

"Shit, shit, shit... Shoot it more!" She screamed, dismay clear in her voice. Something was wrong. She couldn't move. She was going to die if he didn't do something. Deacon dove forward, pulling his pistol out and aimed for the deathclaw's head and held his breath. He had to time this perfectly... When the deathclaw rose its hand for a swipe, Deacon fired, shooting a silenced shot at its neck. It faltered, giving her just enough time to react and move around the monster.

But their success was short-lived. It spun on her, slamming its tail into her and throwing her across the street. Deacon winced as she hit the wall that cracked not only her suit's helmet but some of her plating. This was not looking good. This was looking so, so very bad.

She tried to sit up but it was on her too swiftly. Deacon could see the exhaustion in her movements as she tried to block its downward slash. Part of its claws must have landed because she howled in pain and recoiled, hiding her face. As the deathclaw lifted its hand for the killing blow, however, she snarled and launched herself at it, wrestling the deathclaw away from her. She reared back and threw out a right hook, catching the deathclaw in the throat, causing it to yowl and back away.

This was the fury he'd imagined from her. Her hair in disarray, eyes bright and wild, her lips cracked and smeared with blood. Compared to the cold, uncompromising fury of her spouse, his mystery dweller was a wildfire with a singular desire for destruction. She stared down this literal beast and while she panted, breathing hitched as she choked on her own sweat and blood, she stood unafraid. Her fear replaced with ferocity.

"Preston!" She screamed, backing towards the museum slowly as the beast circled her. "Aim for its throat!" Deacon watched in awe as she slammed her fist against her chest and roared, launching herself at the deathclaw. He heard the crunch of metal as its claws landed on her shoulder and hip. His knuckles were white with how tightly he gripped the windowsill, knowing there was nothing he could do at this angle but watch and pray that whatever her plan was worked.

She had grabbed its mouth and was trying to pry it open. She'd realized she'd need to go for the soft spots, it seemed. Good, good. She might have a chance at this, Deacon thought. She did something to irritate it, something to cause the beast to roar and open its jaws. She held them open, clearly straining, but she didn't have to strain for long. Preston's aim was true and quick and the shot blasted right through the back of the deathclaw's throat.

Deacon didn't wait to see it fall. He rushed down the stairs of the building, popping a stealth boy and ran out into the street. His foot hit the sidewalk right as she collapsed from the back of the suit. Preston was still in the balcony, stiff with shock. That was fine, Deacon was here. Deacon could fix it.

The determination and intensity of his desire to help her shocked him for a moment. She was almost unconscious, muttering to herself and staring at the ground with blank, unseeing eyes. He rolled her to the side gently and pulled a stimpack from his pocket, shoving it unceremoniously into her neck.

"You're a stupid, stupid woman. You could have died. You punched a deathclaw. _You wrestled a deathclaw_!" He hissed at her, scolding his mystery dweller as she faded in and out of consciousness. He sputtered a laugh when she pursed her lips and 'pfftd' at him as if refuting his words.

"Hurry, get her into the museum!" Preston emerged from the museum with another man in tow.

Deacon slipped back, letting the two men gently lift her and run her into the safety of the museum walls. He was surprised that he felt irritated. They would patch her up, Deacon had done his part in getting the first stimpack in. Slowly, he backed into the building to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves.

This wasn't a pet project anymore. This was a living, breathing woman who'd suffered immensely already and whose journey, unfortunately, was just getting started. She was vicious but kind to those who deserved it and went out of her way to help others. If her husband was anything like her, which he seemed to be so far, they were a pair a dozen. He was intrigued before and then captivated. But now Deacon was invested. Invested in this woman and her spouse who had seen the world die and yet still pushed on.

If their concern for life extended to synths... they'd be perfect for the Railroad. Time would tell if that were the case.


	6. Just Like Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ava didn't even try to hide the look of confusion and judgment. Her brows shot up and she squinted curiously at Mama and was ready to ignore her most likely equally confusing rebuttal before the old woman chuckled and crooned, "Your story isn't just yours. It belongs to your husband too. You must find your son together."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ava awakens, only to find she's made no progress in gathering medical supplies. Mostly because her new friends had to use all of them on her.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments! Love 'em! Really, truly, I love feedback!
> 
> Quick reference to clarify some things: All sources I have for Preston's age puts him around the 20-24 bracket. Ava and Iann are 27 and 30 respectively. Hence the 'kid' moniker for Ava towards Preston.
> 
> Secondly: Only 24-26 hours have passed since Ava left the Vault. This is a relatively fast-paced start. When big time-skips happen (days or weeks worth) I will point it out!
> 
> Annnnd lastly: I sometimes make art things. So for your enjoyment, here is a little doodle of Ava and Iann's wedding photo. https://tinyurl.com/weddiannava

_"Are you ready?"_

_The question gave her pause. Ava looked up from the small, simple bouquet to Iann who stood in the doorway of the dressing room. He'd chosen a simple, cream colored oxford shirt, black slacks, and a vibrant burgundy tie. He watched her with a gentle, curious smile as he fumbled to roll down and button his sleeves. She glanced to the mirror beside her and squinted. She'd also chosen something simple, plain and classic. Her dress was off-white, straight, with short lace sleeves and lace decal in the U-collar. She'd gone with something that didn't hug her curves but allowed her growing stomach room to breathe. Her eyes trailed down to the ground and she scowled. It was longer than she normally liked, but she didn't want to show the leg more than she needed to. It was hard enough to walk steadily which meant it was already too obvious._

_"You look beautiful, if that's the concern." Iann's feet appeared in her line of sight. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eye. His hand repositioned to her cheek and he caressed it tenderly. "What's the matter?" He questioned, furrowing his brows ever so slightly. "Not getting cold foot on me, are you?" His lips quirked into smirk and his eyes crinkled with mirth._

_"Ha, ha, very funny," She drawled, leaning her face into his hand. Was she ready for this? To get married to a man she'd known only a year? Were they only doing it for the baby? Would they regret it later and split in a cruel, angry fashion? Ava had never wanted kids nor disliked the idea of having kids. But she had grown to like the idea of settling down and tuning out the rest of the world with a select few important people._

_She leaned away and looked her husband-to-be over. The man she was about to swear a vow to love and cherish for the rest of her days, to stand beside and fight beside against anything that came between them. The man who already had worked with her, trained with her and fought alongside her in war. The man who could transform the atmosphere of a room in minutes, who could win over the most surly of men with just a bottle of whiskey and a good story._

_She saw a man she loved. A man she cherished. A man she'd kill to protect and a man who'd dragged her body from the wreckage of a blown-up truck and carried across the Alaskan wastes until they reached a haven. The man who'd defended her rights and stood up for her against the family who'd been disappointed with her choices in life. She saw the father of her child. Ava looked up and smiled brightly. She held out her arms out._

_"I'm ready."_

_Iann laughed excitedly and grasped her hands, pulling her to her stand and into a tight embrace. His lips pressed against her skin, peppering her temple, cheek, and the bit of neck behind her ear with short, sweet kisses. His breath on her neck tickled, mking her laugh, airy and light. She pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck, hands clasped together over the small of his back._

_"Touching, but ultimately useless."_

_In the doorway, she noticed someone was watching their heartfelt moment. She reddened and began to pull away, intending to apologize for holding up the ceremony but she paused, her voice catching in her throat._

_Three scars. A .44 magnum revolver. That sneer. Shaun's kidnapper aimed his gun at her husband's back and-_

 

Ava sat up with a hoarse shout, her arms reaching out and grasping blindly in front of her. "No! No, not again!"

"Mum! Mum, it's okay! Lie down, you're still healing!" Codsworth was at her side, trying to push her shoulder back down onto the torn, frayed couch of their old living room. Her eyes snapped to his stalks and she felt her throat burning, her chest tightening. "Shh, there, there, Mum. That's it, now. Slow breaths."

Ava scooted back, sitting with her back to the arm of the couch. Her hands went to her face and she began to scrub at it vigorously. With a hiss she stopped suddenly, eyes watering and blurring as tears formed. The left side of her face throbbed with agonizing pain, tender to the touch. "W-what...?" She tried to question, her voice thick with pain and exhaustion.

"You were injured, Mum. You're on the mend, though. Just a few more treatments and the cuts will finish healing up. Sleep will help!"

At this she furrowed her brows. Then she remembered. She'd fought a lizard monster. And somehow hadn't died. "Preston...?"

"He's running a patrol, Mum. He and his companions brought you here. Very charming young man! I'm glad you managed to make a few new friends. You can't have enough of those these days!" Codsworth's pincher arm pressed on her shoulder again, urging her to lay down. "You really should rest."

She was exhausted. And she knew stimpacks worked better with sleep. So with a resigned sigh she nodded and laid back down.

"I'll stay and keep you company, Mum!" She shook her head. 

"It's okay... Go on." She was already falling back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She was less sore when she woke the second time. And appreciated that she had no other nightmares. Gingerly, she pulled her legs around the side of the couch and sat, staring at her old broken T.V. The screen was mostly intact and she could see her reflection in it. Hesitantly, she pressed her fingers to the swollen, red and bruised lines on her cheek, lips and chin. The minuscule damage was nothing short of a miracle. They'd scar. But to have only gone as deep as they did? To have not ripped her face apart like a Salvador Dali painting was... beyond lucky. Gently she prodded the flesh, wincing but happy to see it was healing well. 

Outside, across the street, the group from the museum sat around a table they'd scavenged and set up in the yard next to the garage. Looking at the food they were eating, without even knowing what it was reminded her of how hungry she was. She glanced down, almost exhaling in relief to find her prosthetic largely unharmed. It was scuffed to be sure, but it hadn't splintered. With a groan she pushed up from the couch and stretched before heading outside.

"Ah! You're awake!" Stanely- no, Sturges greeted her in that warm, friendly southern accent of his. The Longs, still looking worse for the wear looked up at her as well. The man smiled, but the sadness in his eyes didn't fade. Preston hopped up from the table and rushed to her side, offering her his arm.

She laughed and waved him off, but let him guide her to a chair beside Mama Murphy. He smiled and nodded, running over to the makeshift stove they'd hobbled together to fetch her a bowl. She enjoyed the silent communication, most people didn't understand how to talk without... talking.

"There you are, kid. Dogmeat's been worried. I knew you'd be fine, though." Mama crooned, spooning the mystery soup... dish into her mouth.

"Yeah? Cause of your 'sight'?" Ava quipped back, playfulness in her tone.

"Somewhat. You're strong, I knew that you'd be fine. But your story isn't done. Your family still needs you." Mama looked up to her and smiled a crooked, too understanding smile.

Ava felt herself frowning. "I don't know what Codsworth's told you..."

"Nothing- we didn't ask other than how he knew you, but he wouldn't even explain that. Only said you were his owner or something." Preston responded, placing a bowl in front of her before sitting back at his place at the table. It looked worse than anything she'd had in the military, but it smelled alright and she was starving. So she picked up her spoon and took a bite, surprised to find it tasted reasonably good, albeit a bit stringy. 

"Well, he did mention one thing, sort'f." Sturges admitted. Ava looked up warily, urging him to continue with her spoon. "He mentioned you were in dire need of medical supplies- that it was why ya went to Concord. We... tried to conserve what we had so we could give ya some but..." Sturges gestured at her face. "If ya hadn't tried to wrestle a deathclaw we mighta had some leftover but we ended up having to use them all to stabilize you."

"How long was I out?" She asked nervously.

"Only... what, ten hours or so? Maybe closer to eight. Slept through the night, really." Oh, good. So she'd been out of the Vault only... a day or so. She had gotten out around this time the day before. But beside that, Ava was surprised. Gratitude flushed through her and her throat felt tight again. They'd not only saved her life but tried to have something to repay her with after the fact. They really were good people.

"W-we have some c-caps to give you t-to buy some, though," The male Long stuttered. Ava smiled to him but furrowed her brows. 

"...Caps?"

Everyone at the table turned and looked at her funnily, except for Mama, who just hummed and continued to eat.

"...Right! Yes, caps, duh, haha, I must have... hit my head worse than I thought!" Ava laughed awkwardly, desperate to hide her ignorance. 

Preston wiped his mouth on a scrap of cloth he'd been using as a napkin and looked over his shoulder towards the Vault and then back to her. "They must not have taught you anything in that Vault," He mused.

Ava laughed loudly, causing more confused stares. Oh, if only he knew... "Yeah, I uh... It's sort of like I c-came from a different world." She allowed, hoping it'd explain her ignorance without completely outing herself.

Preston smiled and held up a hand, shrugging. "Hey, it's okay. Didn't mean to rile you. We're not going to judge you or anything. You saved our lives, after all."

Ava flushed and looked down at her bowl, not expecting any sort of praise or recognition. "I mean, you all saved me, coulda left me to die in that street."

"Hey, whatever you think about the Minutemen, always know we repay our friends." Preston shared a look with Sturges and smiled. 

She almost bit her tongue but she needed to ask. "If that's the case... where _can_ I get medical supplies? Is there a hospital around still or... a pharmacy...?"

More odd stares. But Sturges responded despite that, "Not... really. Theres some chem dealers in the city hubs, but not a pharmacy. You'd have to buy them. With caps." He added at the end. 

She nodded slowly. So... caps were currency. Okay. Made sense. She guessed. "Where is the nearest city...?" She asked.

Mama shook her head. "No, kid, your story doesn't go there yet. You need to purge your anger and fear before your love can be reborn in flame."

Ava didn't even try to hide the look of confusion and judgment. Her brows shot up and she squinted curiously at Mama and was ready to ignore her most likely equally confusing rebuttal before the old woman chuckled and crooned, "Your story isn't just yours. It belongs to your husband too. You must find your son together."

Ava's palms slapped into the table and she shot up, eyes wide. She was aware she was overreacting, showing her whole deck of cards without even having to see their faces but she couldn't help it. That had hit too close to home. This woman couldn't possibly...

"I'm going for a walk. Stretch my leg," She bit out hastily, trying to leave the table as quickly as possible. She beelined for the trees, only stopping when her feet hit the stone ledge of the river. Her breathing was erratic and she felt her vision swim as she crouched and held her head between her knees. She didn't know how long she sat here, zoning out and listening to the water lap across the stones downstream.

She didn't hear him approach until he was beside her, crouching next to her. "Hey, Ava, you alright there?"

Preston was a good kid. Young, but with kind eyes and a bright smile. She nodded and fell back, landing on her ass with a quiet thump. She rested her head in her hands and muttered an apology.

"Hey, no, it's fine. You don't need to apologize. I don't know if Mama's vision are always right but... sometimes she just... knows things. Like to come to Sanctuary. Or how a person is hurting." He extended his hand slowly, waiting for confirmation to rest it on her shoulder. When she didn't brush it off, he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I don't know why you need the medical supplies, but I'll do my best to help you get them. I just need to help these people get settled here."

Ava lifted her head, peering at him curiously. "'These people'? Are they not also Minutemen?"

With a sigh, Preston shook his head. "No, I'm... the last of Minutemen. We're... we were created to protect the people of the Commonwealth. A volunteer army between settlements. But now..." He craned his neck to look back at the house where the settlers had taken up residence. "I can't even protect those five, let alone the other settlements who've been asking for help..."

"What kind of help? Is there any way I could assist?" Ava responded before she could stop herself. Why was she always doing this? She'd just tight-roped back from the brink of death.

Preston looked back down to her, the same question in his eyes. "I- well, yes, if you wanted to go and check on them you could but... you just healed after fighting a deathclaw, and your hus-"

"It's fine, I need a distraction. And maybe they'll have medical supplies." She interrupted. She couldn't think about that right now. Bury it and push on. She could worry about saving her husband and then her son when she had the actual means to accomplish those goals.

Preston looked unconvinced, but eventually gave a resigned shrug. "Alright. They're up the hill a ways. I can mark the general location on your pipboy's map, if you'd like. It's maybe a few hours walk from here if I remember correctly."

Holding out her arm, Ava flicked on the pipboy. "Sure, go ahead." As he jumped through the menu and entered the information, Ava took a moment to look around. "Where is Codsworth?"

"He took Dogmeat and went to scour the other houses in the neighborhood for supplies. You gonna wait on him or...?"

Ava shook her head. Codsworth was going to argue with her if he knew she intended to go back out so soon after healing. "No, no. I was just worried. Tell him I'll be home by the end of the evening or early tomorrow at the latest, okay?"

Preston nodded as he stood, offering her a hand that she gladly accepted this time. "Of course, ma'am. I really appreciate you helping out with this. I'd love to go, but I can't leave until these folk are more established." 

"I understand, Preston. Really, it's not a big deal. Some walking will do me some good." 

After parting ways, Ava had quickly scurried to her house to collect her supplies. She wanted to leave before Codsworth returned. She'd spared a moment to check the bunker and it was closed tight. She'd have to make due with what she had on hand for now. They'd changed her out of her suit to check for injuries, and given her a scruffy, slightly too large pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with holes to wear instead. The woman Long had given her a small knapsack, which Ava was greatly appreciative of. With her pistol attached to one hip, raider-looted shotty, on her back, and baton on the other, she headed out the door and down the dirt path. 

 

* * *

 

Deacon had trailed the group to Sanctuary. He'd sat outside her home and kept guard, watching the dirt path from the vault, expecting Iann to come walking down any minute. But even after she woke up screaming, he hadn't come. Deacon was starting to worry he'd accidentally killed the guy at this rate.

She wore the scars well, he thought. They were red, harsh, and jagged, rimmed with purple and blue bruising. The deathclaw had managed to scrape three claws down her face but luckily missed her eye and the cuts didn't go deep enough to hit bone. She was incredibly lucky. Stupid lucky.

Sorta just stupid.

_I mean, who sees a giant lizard and decides, 'I'm gonna wrestle that!'_ Deacon thought to himself. He hadn't even been trailing her more than a day and she was already a handful. 

He hadn't heard what upset her at the table but he'd seen the result. Her hasty retreat, stumbling over herself to get as far away as possible. He'd followed, giving her space, but sticking close by to be sure she was alright. He'd sat in solidarity as her breathing became less jagged, as she came back to herself. He'd wanted to shoo Preston away when he'd come over, but he seemed to know the right things to say. Deacon was grateful for his presence- because of Preston he'd finally learned his mystery dweller's name: Ava. It was a good name, he thought. But then Preston ruined it by asking her for a favor.

Had he not seen her nearly die to keep them safe? Did he not see the still healing scars? How selfish was this kid? But then she agreed to help! He couldn't believe how stupidly altruistic she was being. Until he'd heard it.

_'It'll be a good distraction!'_ She'd said. Deacon knew that line well. Bury yourself in work or projects so you don't have to think about the crippling weight of your fears and failures. He thought it was a terrible idea for her going on this errand, but short of exposing himself or knocking her out again, there was nothing he could do to stop her. At least she wasn't wearing the Vault suit anymore. Vault Dwellers had a target on their back and stuck out like sore thumbs in those damn things. She fit in with the aesthetic of the Commonwealth now- with scars, dirt, messy hair, shitty clothes and shitty weapons. He found he didn't like the change- A small part of him felt like she wasn't supposed to fit in. She was different and everyone should know it. 

But he shelved those thoughts for now, trailing behind her as she headed off to complete her errand for Preston. 


	7. Isostasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Iann shook his head, pulling the key from around his neck. "Nope, not risking that. Can you tell me where to go? I need to gear up but I'm going and getting my wife." He stared the younger man, leaving no room for argument in his tone._
> 
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> _Preston nodded, seemingly not surprised by how uncompromising he was. "Lend me your pipboy and I can mark it on the map like I did for her."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who continued to pop in and check on this fic and toss kudos. I'd get the notifications and they really helped my drive to want to finish it. Your support is so appreciated! 
> 
> This chapter is shorter, a baby step to getting this story back on track. I've spent the last week re-tuning some of the previous chapters. No major story changes! Just some grammatical swaps or fixes for things that bugged me.

  _"Are you ready?"_

_The question gave her pause. Ava looked up from the small, simple bouquet to Iann who stood in the doorway of the dressing room. He'd chosen a simple, cream-colored oxford shirt, black slacks, and a vibrant burgundy tie. He watched her with a gentle, curious smile as he fumbled to roll down and button his sleeves. She glanced at the mirror beside her and squinted. She'd also chosen something simple, plain and classic. Her dress was off-white, straight, with short lace sleeves and lace decal in the U-collar. She'd gone with something that didn't hug her curves but allowed her growing stomach room to breathe. Her eyes trailed down to the ground and she scowled. It was longer than she normally liked, but she didn't want to show the leg more than she needed to. It was hard enough to walk steadily which meant it was already too obvious._

_"You look beautiful if that's the concern." Iann's feet appeared in her line of sight. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eye. His hand repositioned to her cheek and he caressed it tenderly. "What's the matter?" He questioned, furrowing his brows ever so slightly. "Not getting cold foot on me, are you?" His lips quirked into a smirk and his eyes crinkled with mirth._

_"Ha, ha, very funny," She drawled, leaning her face into his hand. Was she ready for this? To get married to a man she'd known only a year? Were they only doing it for the baby? Would they regret it later and split in a cruel, angry fashion? Ava had never wanted kids nor disliked the idea of having kids. But she had grown to like the idea of settling down and tuning out the rest of the world with a select few important people._

_She leaned away and looked her husband-to-be over. The man she was about to swear a vow to love and cherish for the rest of her days, to stand beside and fight beside against anything that came between them. The man who already had worked with her, trained with her and fought alongside her in war. The man who could transform the atmosphere of a room in minutes, who could win over the surliest of men with just a bottle of whiskey and a good story._

_She saw a man she loved. A man she cherished. A man she'd kill to protect and a man who'd dragged her body from the wreckage of a blown-up truck and carried across the Alaskan wastes until they reached a haven. The man who'd defended her rights and stood up for her against the family who'd been disappointed with her choices in life. She saw the father of her child. Ava looked up and smiled brightly. She held out her arms out._

_"I'm ready."_

_Iann laughed excitedly and grasped her hands, pulling her to her stand and into a tight embrace. His lips pressed against her skin, peppering her temple, cheek, and the bit of neck behind her ear with short, sweet kisses. His breath on her neck tickled, making her laugh, airy and light. She pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck, hands clasped together over the small of his back._

_"Touching, but ultimately useless."_

_In the doorway, she noticed someone was watching their heartfelt moment. She reddened and began to pull away, intending to apologize for holding up the ceremony but she paused, her voice catching in her throat._

_Three scars. A .44 magnum revolver. That sneer. Shaun's kidnapper aimed his gun at her husband's back and-_

 

Ava sat up with a hoarse shout, her arms reaching out and grasping blindly in front of her. "No! No, not again!"

"Mum! Mum, it's okay! Lie down, you're still healing!" Codsworth was at her side, trying to push her shoulder back down onto the torn, frayed couch of their old living room. Her eyes snapped to his stalks and she felt her throat burning, her chest tightening. "Shh, there, there, Mum. That's it, now. Slow breaths."

Ava scooted back, sitting with her back to the arm of the couch. Her hands went to her face and she began to scrub it vigorously. With a hiss she stopped suddenly, eyes watering and blurring as tears formed. The left side of her face throbbed with agonizing pain, tender to the touch. "W-what...?" She tried to question, her voice thick with pain and exhaustion.

"You were injured, Mum. You're on the mend, though. Just a few more treatments and the cuts will finish healing up. Sleep will help!"

At this, she furrowed her brows. Then she remembered. She'd fought a lizard monster. And somehow hadn't died. "Preston...?"

"He's running a patrol, Mum. He and his companions brought you here. Very charming young man! I'm glad you managed to make a few new friends. You can't have enough of those these days!" Codsworth's pincher arm pressed on her shoulder again, urging her to lay down. "You really should rest."

She was exhausted. And she knew stimpacks worked better with sleep. So with a resigned sigh, she nodded and laid back down.

"I'll stay and keep you company, Mum!" She shook her head.

"It's okay... Go on." She was already falling back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She was less sore when she woke the second time. And appreciated that she had no other nightmares. Gingerly, she pulled her legs around the side of the couch and sat, staring at her old broken T.V. The screen was mostly intact and she could see her reflection in it. Hesitantly, she pressed her fingers to the swollen, red and bruised lines on her cheek, lips, and chin. The minuscule damage was nothing short of a miracle. They'd scar. But to have only gone as deep as they did? To have not ripped her face apart like a Salvador Dali painting was... beyond lucky. Gently she prodded the flesh, wincing but happy to see it was healing well.

Outside, across the street, the group from the museum sat around a table they'd scavenged and set up in the yard next to the garage. Looking at the food they were eating, without even knowing what it was reminded her of how hungry she was. She glanced down, almost exhaling in relief to find her prosthetic largely unharmed. It was scuffed to be sure, but it hadn't splintered. With a groan, she pushed up from the couch and stretched before heading outside.

"Ah! You're awake!" Stanely- no, Sturges greeted her in that warm, friendly southern accent of his. The Longs, still looking worse for the wear looked up at her as well. The man smiled, but the sadness in his eyes didn't fade. Preston hopped up from the table and rushed to her side, offering her his arm.

She laughed and waved him off, but let him guide her to a chair beside Mama Murphy. He smiled and nodded, running over to the makeshift stove they'd hobbled together to fetch her a bowl. She enjoyed the silent communication, most people didn't understand how to talk without... talking.

"There you are, kid. Dogmeat's been worried. I knew you'd be fine, though." Mama crooned, spooning the mystery soup... dish into her mouth.

"Yeah? Cause of your 'sight'?" Ava quipped back, playfulness in her tone.

"Somewhat. You're strong, I knew that you'd be fine. But your story isn't done. Your family still needs you." Mama looked up at her and smiled a crooked, too understanding smile.

Ava felt herself frowning. "I don't know what Codsworth's told you..."

"Nothing- we didn't ask other than how he knew you, but he wouldn't even explain that. Only said you were his owner or something." Preston responded, placing a bowl in front of her before sitting back at his place at the table. It looked worse than anything she'd had in the military, but it smelled alright and she was starving. So she picked up her spoon and took a bite, surprised to find it tasted reasonably good, albeit a bit stringy.

"Well, he did mention one thing, sort'f." Sturges admitted. Ava looked up warily, urging him to continue with her spoon. "He mentioned you were in dire need of medical supplies- that it was why ya went to Concord. We... tried to conserve what we had so we could give ya some but..." Sturges gestured at her face. "If ya hadn't tried to wrestle a deathclaw we mighta had some leftover but we ended up having to use them all to stabilize you."

"How long was I out?" She asked nervously.

"Only... what, ten hours or so? Maybe closer to eight. Slept through the night, really." Oh, good. So she'd been out of the Vault only... a day or so. She had gotten out around this time the day before. But besides that, Ava was surprised. Gratitude flushed through her and her throat felt tight again. They'd not only saved her life but tried to have something to repay her with after the fact. They really were good people.

"W-we have some c-caps to give you t-to buy some, though," The male Long stuttered. Ava smiled at him but furrowed her brows.

"...Caps?"

Everyone at the table turned and looked at her funnily, except for Mama, who just hummed and continued to eat.

"...Right! Yes, caps, duh, haha, I must have... hit my head worse than I thought!" Ava laughed awkwardly, desperate to hide her ignorance.

Preston wiped his mouth on a scrap of cloth he'd been using as a napkin and looked over his shoulder towards the Vault and then back to her. "They must not have taught you anything in that Vault," He mused.

Ava laughed loudly, causing more confused stares. _Oh, if only he knew..._ "Yeah, I uh... It's sort of like I c-came from a different world." She allowed, hoping it'd explain her ignorance without completely outing her.

Preston smiled and held up a hand, shrugging. "Hey, it's okay. Didn't mean to rile you. We're not going to judge you or anything. You saved our lives, after all."

Ava flushed and looked down at her bowl, not expecting any sort of praise or recognition. "I mean, you all saved me, coulda left me to die on that street."

"Hey, whatever you think about the Minutemen, always know we repay our friends." Preston shared a look with Sturges and smiled.

She almost bit her tongue but she needed to ask. "If that's the case... where can I get medical supplies? Is there a hospital around still or... a pharmacy...?"

More odd stares. But Sturges responded despite that, "Not... really. There's some chem dealers in the city hubs, but not a pharmacy. You'd have to buy them. With caps." He added at the end.

She nodded slowly. So... caps were currency. Okay. Made sense. She guessed. "Where is the nearest city...?" She asked.

Mama shook her head. "No, kid, your story doesn't go there yet. You need to purge your anger and fear before your love can be reborn in flame."

Ava didn't even try to hide the look of confusion and judgment. Her brows shot up and she squinted curiously at Mama and was ready to ignore her most likely equally confusing rebuttal before the old woman chuckled and crooned, "Your story isn't just yours. It belongs to your husband too. You must find your son together."

Ava's palms slapped into the table and she shot up, eyes wide. She was aware she was overreacting, showing her whole deck of cards without even having to see their faces but she couldn't help it. That had hit too close to home. _This woman couldn't possibly..._

"I'm going for a walk. Stretch my leg," She bit out hastily, trying to leave the table as quickly as possible. She beelined for the trees, only stopping when her feet hit the stone ledge of the river. Her breathing was erratic and she felt her vision swim as she crouched and held her head between her knees. She didn't know how long she sat here, zoning out and listening to the water lap across the stones downstream.

She didn't hear him approach until he was beside her, crouching next to her. "Hey, Ava, you alright there?"

Preston was a good kid. Young, but with kind eyes and a bright smile. She nodded and fell back, landing on her ass with a quiet thump. She rested her head in her hands and muttered an apology.

"Hey, no, it's fine. You don't need to apologize. I don't know if Mama's vision is always right but... sometimes she just... knows things. Like to come to Sanctuary. Or how a person is hurting." He extended his hand slowly, waiting for confirmation to rest it on her shoulder. When she didn't brush it off, he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I don't know why you need the medical supplies, but I'll do my best to help you get them. I just need to help these people get settled here."

Ava lifted her head, peering at him curiously. "'These people'? Are they not also Minutemen?"

With a sigh, Preston shook his head. "No, I'm... the last of Minutemen. We're... we were created to protect the people of the Commonwealth. A volunteer army between settlements. But now..." He craned his neck to look back at the house where the settlers had taken up residence. "I can't even protect those five, let alone the other settlements who've been asking for help..."

"What kind of help? Is there any way I could assist?" Ava responded before she could stop herself. Why was she always doing this? She'd just tight-roped back from the brink of death.

Preston looked back down at her, the same question in his eyes. "I- well, yes, if you wanted to go and check on them you could but... you just healed after fighting a deathclaw, and your hus-"

"It's fine, I need a distraction. And maybe they'll have medical supplies." She interrupted. She couldn't think about that right now. Bury it and push on. She could worry about saving her husband and then her son when she had the actual means to accomplish those goals.

Preston looked unconvinced but eventually gave a resigned shrug. "Alright. They're up the hill a ways. I can mark the general location on your pipboy's map if you'd like. It's maybe a few hours walk from here if I remember correctly."

Holding out her arm, Ava flicked on the pipboy. "Sure, go ahead." As he jumped through the menu and entered the information, Ava took a moment to look around. "Where is Codsworth?"

"He took Dogmeat and went to scour the other houses in the neighborhood for supplies. You gonna wait on him or...?"

Ava shook her head. Codsworth was going to argue with her if he knew she intended to go back out so soon after healing. "No, no. I was just worried. Tell him I'll be home by the end of the evening or early tomorrow at the latest, okay?"

Preston nodded as he stood, offering her a hand that she gladly accepted this time. "Of course, ma'am. I really appreciate you helping out with this. I'd love to go, but I can't leave until these folk are more established."

"I understand, Preston. Really, it's not a big deal. Some walking will do me some good."

After parting ways, Ava had quickly scurried to her house to collect her supplies. She wanted to leave before Codsworth returned. She'd spared a moment to check the bunker and it was closed tight. She'd have to make due with what she had on hand for now. They'd changed her out of her suit to check for injuries, and given her a scruffy, slightly too large pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with holes to wear instead. The woman Long had given her a small knapsack, which Ava was greatly appreciative of. With her pistol attached to one hip, raider-looted shotty on her back, and baton on the other, she headed out the door and down the dirt path.

 

* * *

 

Deacon had trailed the group to Sanctuary. He'd sat outside her home and kept guard, watching the dirt path from the vault, expecting Iann to come walking down any minute. But even after she woke up screaming, he hadn't come. Deacon was starting to worry he'd accidentally killed the guy at this rate.

She wore the scars well, he thought. They were red, harsh, and jagged, rimmed with purple and blue bruising. The deathclaw had managed to scrape three claws down her face but luckily missed her eye and the cuts didn't go deep enough to hit bone. She was incredibly lucky. Stupid lucky.

Sorta just stupid.

_I mean, who sees a giant lizard and decides, 'I'm gonna wrestle that!'_ Deacon thought to himself. He hadn't even been trailing her more than a day and she was already a handful.

He hadn't heard what upset her at the table but he'd seen the result. Her hasty retreat, stumbling over herself to get as far away as possible. He'd followed, giving her space, but sticking close by to be sure she was alright. He'd sat in solidarity as her breathing became less jagged, as she came back to herself. He'd wanted to shoo Preston away when he'd come over, but he seemed to know the right things to say. Deacon was grateful for his presence- because of Preston he'd finally learned his mystery dweller's name: Ava. It was a good name, he thought. But then Preston ruined it by asking her for a favor.

Had he not seen her nearly die to keep them safe? Did he not see the still healing scars? How selfish was this kid? But then she agreed to help! He couldn't believe how stupidly altruistic she was being. Until he'd heard it.

_'It'll be a good distraction!_ ' She'd said. Deacon knew that line well. Bury yourself in work or projects so you don't have to think about the crippling weight of your fears and failures. He thought it was a terrible idea for her going on this errand, but short of exposing himself or knocking her out again, there was nothing he could do to stop her. At least she wasn't wearing the Vault suit anymore. Vault Dwellers had a target on their back and stuck out like sore thumbs in those damn things. She fit in with the aesthetic of the Commonwealth now- with scars, dirt, messy hair, shitty clothes, and shitty weapons. He found he didn't like the change- A small part of him felt like she wasn't supposed to fit in. She was different and everyone should know it.

But he shelved those thoughts, for now, trailing behind her as she headed off to complete her errand for Preston.


	8. Still a Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Deacon felt less worried for her safety now. With both of those hellions in there, they'd surely make it out alright._
> 
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> _Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our wasteland duo is finally reunited! But not in the best of conditions... 
> 
> A few quick notes:  
> First! Thanks as always for the support!  
> Second: This is the last chapter for awhile with multiple PoVs of the same scene. Now that Ava and Iann are together, the PoV will be whoever's most involved with what's going on. (Usually will be Ava.) Also, this is ideally one of the last chapters where I have more than 2 PoVs in a single chapter, regardless of scene. It's really a pain to write and follow, imo, but it was important for the set up while they were separated.  
> Third: This is a really long story. I plan to have it cover pretty much every major questline that I hit in this playthrough, including DLCs. The timeline might not be what you expect and while I want to stick to canon overall, my own interpretation will be present.

Deacon trailed behind his hardy, do-gooder Vaultie. He wasn't keen on going back to Lexington, considering the Switchboard- or what used to be the Switchboard- was there and still occupied with Gen 1s last he heard. But she couldn't have known that and so onward she trekked.

When they reached the husk of the city, she sat down on a hill overlooking it and just... stared. For a second, Deacon thought she was reminiscing or grappling with the changes she saw, until she honed in on something in the distance and crawled up, starting down the hill again. She weaved around broken cars and through old Red Rockets, going for a specific spot in the lower section of the city. It seemed to Deacon like she was trying to use previous knowledge about the city's layout pre-war to gain an upper hand. At least, that was the best he could guess based on the limited amount of what he could see.

Deacon couldn't bear to get too close. He just... he _couldn't_. As much as he wanted to follow her into the plant he just... couldn't. He didn't trust himself not to get sloppy, checking the Slocum Joe more than necessary. He couldn't bear to be so close to a place that still contributed to his nightmares.

So with a sigh, he resigned himself to watch duty once again. He found a nice, shaded bush and set up camp, binoculars in his lap. He'd look up occasionally, whenever he thought he saw movement. Usually, it was just a ghoul, which made him nervous. Ghouls crawling around in the same sewer entrance she'd used? Not a nice mix. But there was nothing he could do about it. He just had to have faith as he sat there, feeling useless and frustrated and increasingly worried and-

Wait, he thought as he saw more movement. Deacon slid his sunglasses up onto his forehead and peered through the binoculars again. What he expected to see was yet another ghoul. Or a raider. Hell, even a Gen 1 would have been more expected. But no, it was a certain angry, red-headed father slipping through the same sewer grate his wife had nearly twenty minutes ago.

He felt less worried for her safety now. With both of those hellions in there, they'd surely make it out alright.

Right?

 

* * *

 

Ava was taking her sweet fucking time. The ghouls had unnerved her. She'd seen a few entering the sewers and killed one sleeping inside before it woke up. But the way its skin was flayed and rotted, yet somehow wet and burned at the same time... the jerky motions and dead stares from the ones outside... they really were feral. God, it made her sick to think about.

Besides that, there were way more raiders than she anticipated. And while the sewer entrance had been really helpful with the whole 'getting in quietly' part, it was not helpful in regards to getting to the main part of the factory. Apparently, some asshole decided that needed to be on the third floor. Of course.

And so here she sat, in the ruins of an office, trying to hide yet another dead raider body. She'd been going out of her way to hide the bodies, like that one arcade game Iann really enjoyed... something about snakes? If the other raiders can't see a body, they don't know anything is amiss. She'd found a map of the building in this office, which is how she figured out where the damn factory was. Now she just needed to get there.

And find a grenade. Either the raiders here were smarter not to have active explosives on them in a building riddled with explosive materials or she was just unlucky right now. Either way, she needed to find one or she wasn't getting out of this building. Not easily, at least. And diffidently not without completing her objective. Maybe she'd be able to make one from supplies in the factory?

She crept forward as she planned in her head, pushing open the big double-doors separating the offices from the assembly lines section of the factory. The elevator across the room lead up to the third floor, to the main plant. She just needed to get there. Without being seen, preferably. She could hear some raiders in the room outside the other set of doors, and down the stairs to her right, but none were in her immediate vicinity.

She hobbled forward, as quickly and quietly as she could and rapidly pressed the elevator button. She could hear it descending as she looked around, checking she was alone. She failed to assess the stairwell right next to her, however, and it took all her grit not to scream when a hand wrapped around the lower portion of her face and another shoved her hastily into the elevator.

In a rush of panic, she threw her arm back, grabbing at the hair of whoever had pushed her in and trying to yank him towards the wall of the elevator.

"Fucking- Ava! Shit, woman," The man hissed. Wait.

She _knew_ that voice.

Ava's assault ground to a halt. She spun around mouth agape in a silent exclamation. Iann stood next to her, slumped against the elevator wall, hair half-ripped out of his ponytail. But despite the less than pleasurable reception he'd received just a moment ago, he was smirking that cocky little smirk he did whenever she impressed him somehow. Ava let out a little gasp and lunched forward, grasping onto his coat and pulling him into a backbreaking embrace.

He returned it with just as much fervor as she did and she could hear him exhale as if he'd been holding his breath. The stood like that until the doors opened with a beep, jarring them back into reality. Iann shushed at her and crouched, pulling her down with him. Together they crept out of the elevator and into the shadows of the factory room. Once hidden, he pulled her back in for another hug, breathing her in and shuddering an exhale. She felt relief rush over her, both at his presence and at his reaction to her presence. At how strongly it mimicked her own.

He pulled back and ran his fingers along the healing, harsh lines on her face, brows furrowed with worry. He didn't need to ask, she could tell in his expression that he knew what they were from. He was just assessing the damage. "Are you fine?" He asked, voice unusually soft. Timid, even.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah," She replied shakily. They'd agreed never to use the phrase 'I'm fine', given how most people generally weren't when they responded as such. Unless they were genuinely fine and okay. It'd become a sort of code with them. She reached out, smoothing his hair with a tired huff of a laugh. "Are you fine?"

He nodded and released her face, his hands lowering to rest on her shoulders. He glanced behind them, squinting and pursing his lips in thought. "I'll be much more fine once we're out of here."

She agreed. As much as she wanted to sit here and cling to him, to inspect his currently covered shot wound, to ask him how the fuck he survived and somehow escaped and somehow caught up to her... she knew they could do their catching up back home. Or on the road. Literally anywhere but this factory. And so she begrudgingly removed herself from his grasp and pushed her happy butterflies out of her stomach and focused on the task at hand. "Yeah, I had a plan, I just can't find..."

The feeling of something heavy and circular in her hands caused her to trail off. She looked down, surprised to find one of her homemade explosives. "Does this even still work?" She questioned him, her lips curling in glee regardless.

The cocky bastard smirked right back. He shrugged and pointed to the cars. "Who knows? As long as it makes a bit of spark, though, it should work fine."

Ava suppressed a laugh and swapped the explosive from one hand to another, inspecting it. "Okay, so, I'm going to throw the bomb, when the explosives start going off, we won't have long to get out of here before it all goes to shit. But my leg is starting to splinter and so you'll probably have to carry me."

She turned to look at him, to confirm he was following along, only to find him holding out her custom prosthetic. She shook with excitement, looking up to him and planting a big, messy kiss on his cheek. And then his other cheek. Showered him with kisses, she did. He chuckled along with her quietly and helped her shift her weight onto her butt, so she could remove her old prosthetic and put the other one on. With all the buckles and belts attached, she felt more confident than ever.

"I'll stand back here. I can see a man covered in weird faux-tribal paints, bossing people around. I think he's the gang leader." Iann crouched and propped up his gun on a long-abandoned table, peering down the sights as he spoke.

Taking out the leader, ensuring he died and not leaving up to the slim chance he survived the blast was a good idea. Ava hummed her agreement and began prepping the explosive. After careful consideration, she chose one of the cars in the second row- as it looked like it had the most intact engine. Swiftly, she pulled the pin and bolted back to stand in the doorway of the stairwell, eyes darting between Iann and the explosive.

He might have been near death a day before, but it hadn't done a damn thing to his aim. The explosive was small and controlled but caused the raiders to yell and begin to scatter. Better yet, the hood of the car it exploded under burst into flames, promising a second, larger explosion! Her plan was working!

Iann stood still, unmoving. Even as the second explosion rocked the building he stood still, waiting. Ava was growing nervous as two more cars began to smoke. The screaming raiders running around in a frenzy, the creaking metal frames holding the cars beginning to sway... none of that distracted him.

But they had a long way to run to get out of here safely. As she was trying to retrace her steps out of the building for their escape, he finally took the shot. Ava wasn't able to check his work, but he confirmed his success for her. He pulled his gun back, nodded to himself contentedly and rushed to her side, gesturing for her to start down the stairs.

She pulled her shotgun out of its back holster, ready to blast through raiders as they ran through the building. It warmed her heart and gave her a new rush of hope as they fell into old habits effortlessly. She ran ahead, he kept his eyes peeled. Anything she missed he'd notice and anything in their way she'd stomp down. Just like old times.

But there was no need for a well-executed duo, as she'd done a fantastic job clearing out the lower levels of the building. The only problem they faced while escaping the building was debris and flames. A few times Iann had to reach out and alter her running path- to keep her from running through spilled oil or out of the way from a falling pipe. They rushed into the sewer room, through the sewers, and out the grate as the building rocked and shook with explosions. They burst through together, hand in hand.

It wasn't quite like the films, where the heroine and hero stand under the stars as fireworks light up the sky and make out until the camera pans away into the brilliant lights above them. But as the Corvega plant's windows burst out from the explosions, as the metal structures up top groaned as the building swayed from the shockwaves, Iann rushed up behind her and scooped her up, lifting her above his head with a laugh that was a mix of excitement and relief. He carried her like that for a bit, heading for the Red Rocket a few yards away. She laughed along with him and when he put her down she spun to face him.

"God, I'm so happy you're okay," He sighed breathlessly as he pulled her flush to his chest.

She couldn't have agreed more. And so, with the gas-smelling flames of the car plant filling in for fireworks in the early evening sky, Ava cupped his face and pulled him down for a tender kiss.

 

* * *

 

Iann wanted to scream at the heavens. Of course, he'd gotten to the settlement only thirty or so minutes behind Ava. And of course, he didn't run into her on the way there because she hadn't been going back. Oh, no, of course, she was going to Lexington to kill more raiders.

Of course.

Iann mumbled to himself in frustration, quickly making his way down the new path given to him to Lexington. Not that he needed this one, he could see Lexington's skyline over in the distance and knew where it was. But this was the path the couple in 'Tenpines' had given Ava, and she always followed directions. Which was good, considering she could get lost inside a paper bag otherwise. He was trying not to run, not to risk tripping over his own feet, but he knew she couldn't be moving too fast on the leg she was wearing, and part of him hoped he'd catch up to her before she got to Lexington. But Iann was not a lucky man, and his gut feeling told him to be prepared for bullshit.

The city was about as demolished as he expected it to be. The smaller buildings were far more intact than the taller, multi-floor office suites. But even they were blown out; windows busted, metal frayed off of the walling. Gravity had done its thing, pulling pieces free of the buildings and with each new piece that toppled down, another was ripped out just a little more during the fall.

That awful gut feeling that he was being watched returned as he shuffled along the ruined highway towards the plant. He couldn't be sure if it was genuinely a feeling of being watched or just low-grade paranoia playing tricks on him. After the incident with the man in the vault, Iann kept hearing someone just out of earshot or just behind him, only to find nothing. No man, no evidence of anyone watching him. Just exhaustion and worry gnawing at him.

He crouched behind a ruined car and surveyed the area. There was a roof entrance, and obviously one towards the back that would lead to the factory, where the trucks went. Then a ground floor entrance and the sewers. He'd do best following Ava's trail, or if she wasn't inside yet... if she's scouted around, he'd do best to pick the location she'd most likely go for. Get there before her. Where would his wife go? Not the top or front entrance. The back was also guarded more than she'd prefer it to be, especially with her leg.

No, with her leg like it was, she'd avoid as much direct confrontation as possible. Which meant she'd pick the gross but sneaky entrance of the sewers. Iann snuck forward, hugging the wall beside the sewer entrance. There was this awful, emaciated corpse with leathery, green skin laying only a few steps into the sewers, face down in the muck and water. His head was bashed in, looking like a rotting pumpkin someone had kicked. Iann wrinkled his nose and pressed on, doing his best to remain unheard. He had a few charges worth in his suit for stealth, but he preferred if he could save them for something more important than sneaking past drug-addled gangsters.

Ava hadn't changed a bit, it seemed. Entering the factory basement proper, Iann spotted two corpses carefully pulled and hidden off to the side, only visible from a few specific angles. Meticulous as always, he thought to himself with a small swelling of pride. He'd been beyond happy to hear of her heroics. He was worried, sure, and was going to give her a stern talking to about fighting an actual damned monster, but the cryo hadn't changed her. Even though the panic and fear and pain she must be feeling after watching those people take their son... she'd remained her bleeding heart self.

As he made his way through the winding halls of the lower levels, Iann found more and more corpses ushered to the side. Most if not all of them had some sort of blunt trauma wound, though it seemed at some point she'd acquired a knife and was using it to guarantee a finished job. By the time he was climbing the steps up from the offices, nearly every corpse had a customary throat slice, ensuring a kill. He could hear raiders all around him. Further up the stairwell, through the air vents connecting to other rooms beside him... but he couldn't hear Ava. Luckily, he didn't hear anything about her from the raiders either, so she was most likely not caught or dead. Only hiding like he was.

He'd made it to the stairwell of the second and third floors, leading him to the main factory. He'd opted not to take the elevator as it would produce sound and so now he crept up the stairs bit by bit. Until he heard the button of the elevator being pressed impatiently. Someone was down by the elevator, just a corner turn and a few feet away from noticing him. Iann spun back around, pulled his knife free and slowed his breathing. He had to be quick and quiet, removing the 'patrol'. But when he spun back around it took everything in him not to bark a laugh when he noticed the familiar, messy black curls of his wife.

She stood at the elevator, glancing over her shoulder carefully as she urged the elevator to come quicker. She really hadn't changed. Efficient but definitely not the observant one of the two. Iann stashed his knife back into its sheath and lunged for her, half hugging half grappling her into the elevator. He didn't know if she'd try to scream so he clamped a hand over her mouth just to be safe.

He should have expected her to fight back. For some reason he didn't, which is why he had zero time to react to her hand flailing at his face, grasping at his hair tightly. He grunted and released her, moving with her momentum as she tried to slam him into the wall of the elevator.

"Fucking- Ava! Shit, woman," He hissed in pain, trying not to be too loud. Her attacks jarred to a halt and she whipped around to stare at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. She sputtered, and lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his torso and clinging to him like she would drown if she didn't. He couldn't help but let out a relieved exhale himself and as his arms wound around her in a vice grip he found that he too, suddenly felt like he'd taken a deep breath for the first time in a while.

He wanted to sit there until their arms grew numb but this was neither the time nor place. When the doors opened he took his wife's hand and lead her through to the darkest corner of the factory. There, they embraced again and he took a moment to look at the so-called 'deathclaw' wounds in the dim light. They were harsh, but somehow... fit. A testament to his wife's powerfulness and courage. Any idiot in this wasteland would see those markings and know the stock of woman she was.

She said she was fine, and he believed her. They were both hurting. They were both scared and angry and had no idea what to expect for their future going forward. They both wanted to save their son. To find some sense of normalcy.  But for the moment, neither was injured, and they were together again. And with his wife at his side, Iann knew he could conquer anything.


	9. Reciever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was different; traveling with someone you trust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iann and Ava make it safely to Sanctuary and do a little bit of catching up.  
> Thanks for the kudos and lovely words! I love, love, love hearing from you all! Now that the holidays are done and I'm acclimated to my first semester at my new school, I've got a lot more time to write (and play games).  
> Also! I do not follow the in-game timeline with how some of these quests work. I won't be bulldozing through the main story or 'picking up quests' in the traditional order. DLC are also up for grabs and may be thrown in before the 'end' of the story. I'm hoping that'll help keep things fresh, but also its just the way I typically play the game's story.

 

The trip back to Sanctuary went by much faster than the trip to the plant. And not just because Ava had her genuine prosthetic, or because they were able to take the path back that had already been cleared of potential concerns. It was different; traveling with someone you trust. Even if she and Iann didn't share more than a few words in passing.

The silence sat on their shoulders as they made their way to Tenpines. It wasn't smothering, nor awkward. It was like a barrier or a cloak. They knew they had to talk but neither of them was inclined to do so on the road. So they walked in silence, listening to the ways the trees creaked and the rocks crunched under their feet. Ava found a bit of solace in the sounds, in hearing his footsteps behind her. Occasionally he'd reach out and pull a twig from her hair or armor. And she'd turn and offer her hand to help him up a steep hill.

Jodi and John, the two folks living at Tenpines were thrilled to hear that they'd survived the blast. Apparently, they had heard it in the distance and wondered about it. It was growing dark and they offered the two lodging through the night, but the couple declined, eager to get somewhere safe and private.

Codsworth was there to greet them when they'd returned. Iann had asked him to alert Preston to a job well done and then to keep everyone out of their house until morning, barring any emergencies. Codsworth had whirled and buzzed, practically jovial to receive a request from his family once again. Something he could do and do well!

Ava hadn't stuck around to listen to Codsworth and Iann. Choosing instead to slink inside and flopping onto the worn couch. All the walking and running and deathclaw fighting in the last two days had drained her more than she'd let herself consider. She sunk into the cushions, letting her body relax finally when the door 'closed' behind her.

Iann wasted no time, stepping over the couch to sit next to her, pulling her into his lap. She'd been exhausted just a moment before but now, knowing they were safe finally, knowing he was real and there and in her arms- Ava let out a shuddering gasp and clung to him, running her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck. Iann responded similarly, clutching her to his chest like something precious and in danger, nuzzling the crook of her neck with his nose and rubbing small circles on her back.

All of the feelings they'd both repressed in the factory surged forward in this third embrace as the duo finally let themselves unravel. Ava pulled back, cupping his face and beginning to shower him with little kisses as if every press of her lips to his skin further solidified him in her arms. "God, I thought-" She cut off with a ragged inhale, kissing the side of his mouth and cheek before continuing, "I thought I'd watched you die,"

Iann nodded, listening, letting her shower him with the affection as she needed. His hands wandered her form comfortingly, taking stock of her injuries. The gesture soothed him as much as it reassured her. "I know," He murmured when she'd stopped talking. He didn't say as much, but he never had to begin with. Instead, his thumbs traced circles in her shoulders, his lips pressed to her bruises and scars.

When she sniffled he pulled her face to him so that he could wipe away her tears and look her in the eyes. She smiled, laughing weakly under his gaze, a bashful response he was pleased to see. With his thumb, he tilted her chin down and towards him, finally, finally closing the distance. She sighed against him, opening her lips immediately. He followed suit, taking her lower lip between his teeth and suckling gently. His hand moved to cup her jaw as both of her arms wrapped around his neck.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, kissing, nibbling, nuzzling; soft gasps and hummed moans as they unhurriedly took comfort in the other's arms. They were too sore to go beyond this, both in a physical and emotional sense, but the need to stay locked together compelled them to spend the next few hours ignoring the talking they needed to do in favor of comfort.

 

* * *

 

Later, after they'd laid back on the couch, now content to lie in each other's arms, did they finally begin to talk.

"I'm sorry." Iann whispered so quietly she wasn't sure she'd heard anything at all.

She turned to face him, brows scrunched with worry. She knew where he was going with this. Knew how his mind worked. Gently, she cupped his face in her hand and caressed his cheekbone.

"Why? What could you possibly be sorry for?"

His eyes slammed shut and his whole body tensed. It took him a moment of struggling to mutter his response.

"I... wasn't enough. I lost him." The silence on their journey to Sanctuary earlier that day had been comforting but this one echoed with regret and fell over the two heavily. It squeezed Ava's chest and she could only imagine how it was affecting Iann.

"No, honey. You know it isn't like that. What could you do? They were armed. You nearly died. We're lucky you weren't taken too."

"That's still not good enough," He hissed at her in irritation. He flinched away from her, reeling from his own harsh tone but she remained steadfast, now cupping his face with both hands. 

"Iann. Look at me. If they had taken you from me as well... You did what you could. You did everything you could. The odds were stacked against you. Sometimes, you can do everything right and still fail. There is nothing to forgive."

Arms wound around her back and Iann pulled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck in response, pressing her cheek to his collarbone. He laid there, rigid and stiff and unmoving, crushing her to him. Ava didn't protest because she could hear his heart beating wildly. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck as he shuttered to control his sorrow and panic. 

"Okay," He croaked, clearing his throat a moment later and loosening his grip on her. "I'm fine. Lets..."

Without lifting her head, Ava pulled her arms down into a more comfortable position. She gave him the time he needed to collect himself, content to lie there and rub small on his skin with the tips of her thumb.

"Who did you see?" Iann asked her in a low voice, chin resting on her head.

Ava hummed in thought. "Only two. Some... middle-aged man in leather and some sort of arm-armor and the lady in the hazmat suit."

Iann nodded a little. "That's all I saw as well." He frowned, remembering the person in the Vault when he'd woken up. "Did you... when you were escaping? Did you see anyone else? Or anything strange?"

Ava rolled over to look at him, squinting curiously at him. "What? No?" She suddenly felt nervous and quickly added, "Why? Did you?"

With another nod, Iann lifted his hand to rub her arm comfortingly. "Yeah, but I'm fine. I don't know what happened, maybe someone snuck into the vault after you, but... when I woke up, there was another man in the vault. I didn't get a good look at him, he was using a stealthboy. But-"

Ava smirked and poked his chest lightly. "But you can see that shimmer a mile away, can't you?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, he had placed stimpacks in a drawer... tried really hard to be inconspicuous about it too. And then he tried to bolt after I used them. I don't know what he wanted, he did his best to avoid confrontation with me. Fucker hit me over the head with a chair though."

Ava winced. "Why? Why did he help you and then hit you with a chair?"

"Because I almost caught him."

She rolled her eyes, thumping him on the arm which caused him to laugh. "Either way, he was gone when I woke up a second time. I didn't see a trace of him when I made my way down to Sanctuary, where I nearly killed that kid." He paused when she looked at him funny. "The idealistic, sweet one. Preston? I almost lobbed his head off and into the river, letting you go off like that after fighting something they can only describe as a 'death claw'" He huffed. "The only reason I didn't is because I know it was probably your dumb idea."

He smirked when she averted her eyes and shrugged. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again, you hear?"

She'd opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head. "I'm serious, Ava. This isn't like when you'd merge onto the highway like a bat out of hell. This whole... wasteland is deadly. We can't afford to be brash like that. We've gotta be careful." She relented easily, humming in agreement. "So you didn't see anything? Feel anything odd?"

"No, nothing."

Iann sighed, scratching at his hairline. "Well, that never was your forte, I suppose." She frowned, pouted really, and he chuckled. "What?"

"You make it sound like I'm some kinda incapable damsel."

He rolled his eyes, reaching up and stroking her new scars. "You're not, obviously," He replied quietly.

She sighed against him and laid her head back down. "Well... what's the plan, then? The folk in Sanctuary mentioned a Diamond City, called it the biggest settlement."

Iann nestled back into the couch. "That's probably our best bet then. Someone there will have to have something vaguely similar to useful information. Let's see how we feel tomorrow and head out when we both have recovered."

Ava didn't respond beyond a quiet 'mmmhm'. Iann smiled, exhausting rushing over him like a tide as if her falling asleep reminded him of how tired he really was.


End file.
